SP: P&C1 The Redemption of Chauvelin
by slytherinsal
Summary: After Fleurette has been rescued Chauvelin finds himself in trouble; and the only person who can help him is his nemesis Sir Percy and the League. Part II rated T for unpleasantness
1. Chapter 1

_**This follows directly from Sir Percy Hits Back**__**; shortly after which Robespierre himself fell and anyone associated too closely to the Jacobins also were in trouble. It really is challenging trying to stay within the style of the Baroness without falling into parody; I've done my best! I've also done my best to avoid any linguistic anachronisms.**_

**PART I**

**Chapter 1 Chauvelin Fallen**

The motives of Citizen Armand Chauvelin might be ascribed to misplaced duty, a belief in his own invulnerability or a mulish desire to throw up his life since Sir Percy Blakeney would not harm him; or they might have been a mixture of all three. It is likely that even Chauvelin himself could not answer that question. Nevertheless, when left unharmed at Nîmes by the Scarlet Pimpernel, and secure in the knowledge that his daughter Fleurette would soon be safe in England, Armand Chauvelin returned to Paris to report, perhaps with more of a degree of fatalism than any real cogent thought.

He was of course immediately arrested and incarcerated as a 'dangerous' prisoner.

And perhaps too he might even have got away with a warning, being the close friend of Robespierre that he was, had the matter come to the attention of Robespierre; but the mighty Maximilien Robespierre, effective dictator of France, had his own troubles; and it was within but a short time of Chauvelin's return to Paris that the dictator was himself indicted and subsequently guillotined, and before long the whole Jacobin party disbanded; nay, dismembered!

Chauvelin heard only the vaguest of whispers in his secluded incarceration; but he harboured very few illusions about his likely fate. He had stood on too many toes, made fools of and antagonised too many people to expect anything else but the guillotine for his crimes; or as perhaps he thought of them more neutrally, his actions. He had done what he had done for his own survival, for an ideal, out of habit, out of the malice that grew in the hearts of all connected closely to the revolution, eating like a canker at the very soul until actions unthinkable in an idealistic youth became mere commonplaces! The one thing that kept the one time member of the committee of public safety sane and even – in a way – contented was the knowledge that his beloved daughter was safe. And if she was to marry a man he would not have chosen for her, the grocer's son Amédé Colombe, well at least the youth was her own choice and she would be happy.

It was perhaps a measure of the depth of his revolutionary zeal – or lack of it – that he had hoped for a better born husband for his daughter when the heartbreaking time came for her to cleave to another man than her father; but then the motives of Armand Chauvelin had ever been complex, not to say contradictory at times, and not even entirely known to even the man himself; perhaps only to Le Bon Dieu to whom he had appealed in the extremity of his fear for Fleurette as they travelled he knew not where in that carriage, unaware under whose agency they travelled.

And however much he hated the Scarlet Pimpernel, the more for having the chivalry to spare his arch-enemy's life, he knew the man's word was sacrosanct and Fleurette and her beloved would be in England as soon as that fine yacht _The Day Dream_ might have conveyed her there. For himself, at first at least, he cared little.

As time passed that view was revised in a mind that was quick and active, unused to being pent and unused. Naturally for a man who liked to be doing, the inactivity of prison irked him perhaps more than anything else; and turned his thoughts to wishing they would either get on with it and execute him or decide that he had no case to answer; or at least bring him to trial!

What Chauvelin could not know is that they – the almighty THEY, whichever party or view they represented – still feared his reach; feared to place him on trial or execute him in case he held papers that he might allude to in a trial; or have delivered into the hands of sundry enemies of THEM – in other words, to each other, as ammunition against each other – after his death, as a supreme final revenge. It would be, whispered Citizen-Deputy Merlin, just like Chauvelin.

Had Chauvelin actually been thinking straight when he returned to Paris instead of in turmoil over the recent events that had turned his private life upside-down then perhaps he might even have done something of the sort. He had not; but THEY were not to know that.

And therein, for the time being, lay his continued survival.

Which state of affairs would only last so long as nobody in the Directory had the idea of arranging a quiet assassination in the Temple prison which might, with luck, pass undetected or at least unremarked. The Terror died with Robespierre; the Guillotine lay largely silent and power was in the hands of moderates; but none of them could forget that Chauvelin had moved from the moderate camp in his early career to befriend Robespierre; and thus they feared.

Was it Joseph Fouché who had the idea of the quiet assassination? Certainly he was the most wily of the political manoeuvrers of his time, a man who managed to make comments that the growth of liberty was fertilised by the blood of traitors when the Terror was in full force, and yet managed to be more moderate as the opinion of many swayed against Robespierre. Or maybe it was Tallien, who had personal reasons to hate Chauvelin for the arrest of his betrothed, Therese Cabarras. Merlin perhaps? He had no cause to hate Chauvelin but then who knows what secrets the little spy knew about him? Paul Barras, always moderate albeit of the Jacobin party, rarely in Paris, had managed to avoid making enemies on the whole; a voluptuary rather than a killer he had little to do with the former agent. That Chauvelin, discreet, fastidious, temperate in all he did save for his few losses of temper, despised Barras was neither here nor there; neither had any point of contact, any means to understand the other and so ignored each other so long as no threat was posed.

And as time passed, Armand Chauvelin began to wonder what was to happen to him; whether he was to be forgotten and left to rot forever in this noisome gaol where his once immaculate appearance suffered, though habit, even in the early days of acceptance, kept him combing his hair daily, and shaving, once a week when it was permitted and under close watch; and washing when there was enough water – which was when it rained and the tiny window grille dripped down the wall – and brushing out his clothes as best he might with his hands. He had taken by this time to doodling on the wall with a piece of chalk, drawing geometric patterns on the stones as had once been his wont to do on paper when he was feeling under stress. He knew that he could go mad in here; that eventually, without some kind of surcease he inevitably would go mad; and wondered if that was what was intended for him by his enemies. He determined that they would not win that way; and wiped off his patterns and began instead writing out every portion of his education he could remember, to remind himself of who he was; that he was Armand Chauvelin, brilliant and well educated – as behoved a cousin of a Marquis in the days of his youth – who had eagerly soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Fleurette had not had such an education; it was no longer available, certainly not for an obscure young girl in a tiny place like Lou Mas. A shame; but that was life. The inequalities he had sought to overthrow when the Revolution erupted had become inequalities of another kind; where a gently brought up girl was to be vilified just because she had not had yet less education such as the peasantry and spoke only perfect French, without knowledge of coarse word.

It was harder writing after that thought; for he had snapped his fragment of chalk clear in half.

And then one day was different.

The door of his cell opened and another prisoner was thrust in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 Peter Joins the L****eague**

"Egad, Percy, who's the stripling?" Lord Anthony Dewhurst asked Sir Percy Blakeney as they foregathered with others of their band in the 'Fisherman's Rest'.

The stripling had a smooth cheek that was innocent as yet of even any down to shave, with guinea-gold curls tortured back into a queue save where they escaped; big blue thoughtful eyes, the eyes of a poet or a dreamer perhaps; and a short, slender figure that seemed a very child in comparison to the large, well-knit frame of Sir Percy.

"No idea, Tony; bit in the way, wot?" said Sir Percy. "And we're still waiting on Holte."

"Froggie isn't usually late" said Lord Tony in slight concern. "Have we long before the tide?"

"Not really" said Sir Percy "If Froggie doesn't turn up soon we'll have to go without him."

The slender boy came forward.

"Sir Percy, I must tender my brother's apologies" he said "I'm …Peter Holte; Jimmy is my brother. He just broke his leg falling of a horse; which is the most stupid thing to do, but he was going on and on about how he was letting you down so I promised I would let you know and – and offer my services in his stead."

"Gadzooks!" said Sir Percy "My dear young man, you are far too young! Even if you knew what you were letting yourself in for!"

The youth flushed.

"Oh I know all right" he said "When Froggie and I were younger we used to play in the priest's hole where every word said in the study can be heard; I use it as a den. And Froggie being the muttonhead that he is sort of forgot that when he was talking to you. He being head of the family and being my guardian you see he tends to forget ordinary things like how ubiquitous younger siblings can be. So I know what you require; and I'm prepared to swear the oath of allegiance."

"That still doesn't alter your age; I doubt you even shave yet" said Sir Percy.

Another flush.

"Blonde hair doesn't show so much" said Peter "And think how that is to your advantage; you can dress me as a child or a young girl, even, to listen and overhear and I shan't be betrayed by the hint of a shadow on the chin as time passes over the day. In any wise, you can't judge me on size" a raise of a delicately moulded chin "Because consider the exploits of Captain Horatio Nelson; he's always being Gazetted and I know for a fact he's hardly any taller than I am."

"Sporting lad, wot?" said Lord Tony "I say we give him a trial, Percy; we haven't time to rustle up anyone else and we MUST be on our way; said so yourself."

Sir Percy pulled a face.

"Very well, young Holte; I have little choice. But I shall be talking to you seriously on the journey to be sure you will be able to carry the game."

"If nothing else I can run errands dressed as a filthy little gamin" said Peter "Because my French is perfect and I pick up regional accents quickly; Fleurette Chauvelin who is, until she marries her Amédé, a companion to my sister, has commented that I have picked up the idiom of Southern France from her; and because she lodges with us I know how she worries for her father."

"I suppose" said Sir Percy, as he hurried the stripling out of the inn and down to the quay "There is an advantage in that you do not know my dear friend M. Chambertin and nor does he know you; either I may use the latter or you may find yourself in his company because of the former; as you have no preconceived ideas about him."

"Only that M'selle Fleurette adores him; and any man who is loved by even one being with such intensity cannot be all bad" said Peter.

"Do not, however" said Sir Percy, harshly "Be deceived into seeing a better side of Chauvelin; I think he had it guillotined when it last dared show its head. He has ONE soft spot; Fleurette. I give you due warning."

Peter nodded.

"Froggie is wont to say that he's as cunning as a sack full of ferrets and as dangerous as if you emptied it inside your breeches" the flush rose strongly to the young face again.

"Froggie has some dashed queer expressions at times" said Sir Percy dryly.

-/-

The others of the band who were along were Lord Stowmaries and Lord Thomas Galveston; who, introduced to Peter on board _the Day _Dream wondered that Froggie had not mentioned his brother.

"Ashamed of me I expect" said Peter, unabashed "I read Latin for recreation, and history too."

"Gad!" said Stowmaries, faintly revolted.

Peter's colour rose again.

"I also ride perfectly adequately and I can shoot straight and fence as well as Froggie could teach me; when Papa died he took on those aspects of my education so I could take care of myself" he said. "And I may not show to advantage when boxing but I do at least know enough to appreciate Mendoza's science; for his book is about the only one Froggie has read all through."

"Well, so long as you're not too much of a scholar that you can't stand the rigours of the tasks" said Tom Galveston "Froggie usually works with me in procuring horses and such along the way any route out is going to take, warning those we pay off and getting any er, unusual equipment. The chief will say 'I need a cart such as cabbages are carried in; Froggie and I see to getting it. Still if he's other tasks for you I can manage that alone; have you Froggie's eye for costume? He's unerringly accurate about how we ought to look."

"I fancy" said Peter "That's a skill that must needs be learned; I have a quick eye though and I may hope to learn not to strike a false note. That's what it's about, isn't it? Not striking a false note with a disguise."

"Well you are a swift learner" said Galveston. "Fortunately Percy is a perfectionist too so you can learn from him as you go along. I think the main instruction is that if any of us give you an order you obey without question because WE have learned to recognise trouble."

Peter nodded humbly.

"Yes; and I am very excited and awed to be in the company of you all" he said. "And determined not to let my brother down. By the way, I need to go and be sick; it's something else as well as being short I share with Captain Nelson. Once I've been sick I dare say I shall be fine."

"Don't shoot the cat into the wind" advised Stowmaries kindly.

"My thanks; but I'm not quite THAT green" said Peter, going downwind to vomit over the side.

"There you'll feel better for casting up your accounts" said Galveston "Nip of brandy?"

"Thanks; but Jimmy doesn't let me drink spirits" said Peter "I swear he's stricter in some matters than the old man would ever have been; thinks I'm still in the schoolroom."

"Well dash it, laddie, you look as though you are" said Galveston, frankly. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen. Well just coming up" said Peter with a blush. "I suppose because I enjoy my studies I HAVE rather given him excuse; but I CAN do what I might for him and for the League! I'm going to get some water to rinse my mouth out if you'll excuse me gentlemen; I feel much better and I'm sure I'll have my sea legs in plenty of time to feel odd when we embark on the shore" he added with a droll smile. The two young gentlemen laughed.

"Nice boy" said Galveston as young Peter went below "Game as they come at that; not sure I'd have walked into this business with that amount of sang-froid at not quite eighteen, wot!"

"So long as it's not bravado, or the bravery of ignorance" said Stowmaries cautiously. "Pleasant humoured lad though; like Froggie only without the off colour jokes."

"Oh Froggie only tells off colour jokes to break tension" defended Galveston. "And none of them are so bad you couldn't tell them to Prinny."

"Yes, but that leaves a lot of leeway" said Stowmaries.

-/-

In a cabin below the stripling regarded his reflection.

Or rather her reflection.

The Honourable Petronilla Holte was elated that so far she had carried off her imposture as her own non-existent twin brother; because Froggie WAS upset about that stupid fall. And it was a STUPID fall; he knew he had to be in Dover at a particular time but he would exercise that new hunter of his, the big roan. And consequently, hurrying back to change in order to be there on time, he had taken a short cut. The horse was fine – Froggie's first question on coming to, bless him – but Viscount Frogham, alias Jimmy, alias Froggie, alias, though only to his sister, Toadface, had a rather nasty compound fracture to the leg. And as his sister was the first to get to him, his first instruction to her had been to ride like the devil was after her to Dover to tell Sir Percy what had happened because he could not go on the mission.

Petronilla knew perfectly well what the mission was; as she had told Sir Percy she used the Priest's Hole as a den largely because she knew where the catch to it was and her governess did not. And Miss Primm, a name which suited that worthy, was ever one to scold about the books Petronilla read being 'unsuitable for young ladies'. Froggie had never pensioned the poor woman off because she was too old to get another position and one had obligations; she had been a perfectly adequate governess until she had tried to – in the viscount's words – addle Petey's head with rubbish about decorum and etiquette at dashed inconvenient moments. The siblings' mother having died at the birth of her daughter, Miss Primm had some idea that the poor motherless little girl required guiding in the ladylike arts; and her concept of ladylike was, to the minds of both Holtes, decidedly bourgeois. Petronilla mostly smiled and concurred politely but the priest's hole was her escape; and it had been in here that she had heard Sir Percy telling Jimmy that the life of Citizen Armand Chauvelin was in danger and for his daughter's sake he purposed to rescue the fellow, but was only taking volunteers. Jimmy had naturally said instantly that if the chief willed it, any one of them would volunteer, and dash it, heaping more coals on the head of that badly dressed wretch would be fun, stap him if it wasn't.

And Petronilla had, in honour, to fulfil the promise he had made on his behalf; and not just for him, but for her dear, gentle friend Fleurette, as chalk to the independent Petronilla's cheese, but sweet and lovable and full of the sort of honour and straight behaviour that Petronilla understood. She wondered Fleurette's choice of husband; Amédé was uneducated and boring to her eyes; but he adored his intended bride and like the petit bourgeois that he was showed it. Petronilla could not fault that; she thought the fashion for pretending indifference to a spouse frankly childish and rather silly; and had she not recognised the voice of Sir Percy Blakeney incisive and alert when speaking of serious matters to her brother, unlike its normal lazy drawl as she had heard in the few – the very few! – assemblies she had attended outside of the Season she must have despised him for the way he ignored his wife. But this was The Chief, a man of infinite resource, who hid behind his foppish manner to be the feared enemy of the Terror while it had existed.

She admired him tremendously; and took him at his word to beware of looking for a warmth that did not in reality exist in the man Fleurette called 'Bibi', a name that would translate best perhaps into English or more nearly, Scots, as 'himself' as a childhood pet name for her father.

And yet for Fleurette she too would do anything to help her regain her sole parent. Like Fleurette, Petronilla had never known her mother; but she had adored her cheerfully erratic father who had loved his children fiercely and without distinction between them, demanding that they climbed back up on a horse after a fall and feeding them comfits as a bribe to do so and as a reward for bravery. He was not always present at their growing up; but when he was at home there was always time for them. Though Jimmy and Petronilla both referred to him irreverently as 'the old man' they had been devastated when he had died in a hunting accident. And Jimmy had assumed his father's mantle in caring for his sister; with it may be said a deal more conscientious care, if no less love than his errant parent.

So here she was; and if she could continue to maintain her disguise she would do so. If not? Well they were surely in French waters now and too late to turn back; and as a female she could pose as a child or a girl or a youth as she had already suggested.

-/-

It has to be said that Sir Percy Blakeney was rather too preoccupied to notice that Peter was anything but what he appeared to be; he knew the details a younger brother might be expected to know about Froggie Holte and he looked like Froggie too. He was damnably young, but pluck to the backbone! And it would be churlish to despise and turn down such pluck; and Froggie would be the first to say so, however protective he might be of the lad. That a girl of such tender years would ever even consider walking into such danger save perhaps to save the life of a loved one, Percy never considered. He had reckoned without the former Viscount's habit of treating his daughter like a younger son, and Froggie having continued the habit without being aware that it was in any way unusual. Petronilla knew the rules of etiquette for a lady after all and nobody had ever censured her public behaviour; and Froggie, an enthusiastic member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel did not see anything strange in having one mode of acting with some people and another to the way one acted with others.

Percy knocked on Peter's door – as we must call her since that was her chosen soubriquet! – and she bade him enter. She was trying to tie a cravat having rather ruined the previous, clutching at her throat as she was sick.

"I'd stick to the simple styles young Peter, rather than try to copy your dandy of a brother; at least until you have the hang of it" drawled Sir Percy.

"Will you show me something simple and stylish sir?" asked Petronilla "Jimmy's all look like a family of mice have taken up nesting in them."

"Alas, the sartorial comment on his greatest creations from an unappreciative little brother" Percy drawled. "He would draw blade on most men for less."

"He only takes a slipper to my rear" said Peter cheerfully. "Or throws things at me."

"Brotherly love" said Percy. "Yes; true brotherly love; in such careless insults lies true affection. Like this" he demonstrated, and made Peter tie the knot until she could do it readily.

"Thank you sir – er, Chief I mean" said Peter. "I waste your time however; you did not come to me to teach me to tie this demmed thing."

"NOT an incipient dandy" said Percy. "Corinthian perchance? Not that it matters. I have made plans that include you; and it lets Tony off the hook of a task I was going to foist onto him for his unfailing good humour and charming manners. When we dock, you and I shall ride with all haste to Paris – a ride I fancy you may find deucedly fatiguing – because I have to be there in a hurry. You will be going to a safe house in the city where I shall leave you to acquaint yourself with a number of disguises already there and histories of such persons as those disguises cover. I shall be bringing my friend M. Chambertin to this address where you will entertain him – or otherwise – for a number of weeks by talking, playing chess or cards or such diversions that prevent him from stepping outside."

Peter nodded.

"Because if there's a hue and cry for him, the authorities are going to assume he'll make straight for the gates and will not expect him to be lurking within the city, right under their baying noses" she said.

"Ah, you ARE quick" said Sir Percy "Quicker I fancy than your brother; perhaps the classics you read have sharpened your wits more than he has sharpened his though he's by no means slow" he added hastily. "As it happens one of the disguises I have left in the room is for a couple of women; I thought an old harridan and a less old harridan, but you could carry off a younger harridan methinks; the gowns are for married women of some degree of respectability, to hide the fact that neither of you will have true er, bosoms on display; there is a contraption to wear to fill them out suitably."

Peter grinned.

"Oh I've seen the village girls flirting at my brother; I have no doubt I can manage a slightly slatternly jade" she said.

"Good; I feared your youthful pride, whatever arguments you might have made, would balk at the actual part" said Percy. "There are selections of rags too, and I shall give you an address to which you may apply at emergency, which will mean that a message reaches me. The others will be arranging for the time when you and M. Chambertin leave your place of concealment; though I hope they will be around Paris as a protective force just in case."

"Odd's teeth, Jimmy's going to KILL me for this!" said Peter "So I had better do it right so he has less excuse."

The lazy, heavy-lidded eyes surveyed her.

"WHY is he going to kill you?" he asked.

Peter flushed.

"Because he only told me to tell you that he was indisposed; fulfilling his duties to you by coming along was my idea" she confessed "I DID leave a note."

"Ah, I did rather wonder if it had been a youthful idea not Froggie's idea at all" drawled Sir Percy. "Well lad, if you want to cry off the venture you must wait in Calais until it's convenient to take you home."

"Play the coward? I think not!" said Peter "I'm game for it; demmit, I like M'selle Fleurette and I'll not let HER down any more than Jimmy!"

"You haven't a chance with her you know" said Blakeney "She's in love with her grocer."

"I know that! And I'm not romantically moved towards her; she's like a second sister to me" said Peter, remembering in time to add the word 'second'.

His eyes bored into her and read not one iota of romantic passion or fervour; and nodded satisfied.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Rather a short one. But then the Baroness sometimes has rather short ones too.**_

**Chapter 3 Sir Percy to the Rescue**

Chauvelin regarded the newcomer to his cell. He was a filthy looking creature with an evil expression.

"You closely resemble the sort of disreputable character that was ever the favourite choice of my old adversary the Scarlet Pimpernel" said Chauvelin dryly. He hardly knew what prompted him to make such a comment; was it perhaps half a hope that indeed Sir Percy Blakeney might have come to his aid? In his conscious thoughts Chauvelin would never harbour such a hope – would indeed tell himself firmly that he desired nothing less! – and yet…. And yet deep in his subconscious perhaps some such hope stirred.

If there was such a hope it died before it was fully formed; for the newcomer laughed. Not the merry, slightly inane laugh that had been used to strike chill into Chauvelin's heart and would yet be almost welcome now; but a harsh, coarse laugh.

"Well now citizen, I resemble that Scarlet Pimpernel in one thing; I'm come as the angel of death as you might say!" he said "Nothing personal mind; but you are about to die."

"Ah. So THAT is what they planned for me" said Chauvelin. Now it was come; and he could face it calmly. Chauvelin, despite his lack of inches and slight build, had never lacked physical courage; and he prepared to fight for his life, for he would not go down without a fight! Which was odd perhaps; since he had quite made up his mind that he was going to die; perchance it was the manner of the death intended for him, broken by a ruffian in a dark noisome hole; perchance it was the thought of the Scarlet Pimpernel adding a slim hope of survival; perchance it was merely that Chauvelin was not a man to give up without a struggle because he was too stubborn to be defeatist. And perchance it was a mixture of motives. The fact remained that Chauvelin was more angry than frightened; and he meant to fight. Chauvelin was a man who with Damocles' sword hanging over him would see if he could not divert its course to fall on someone else.

The big bully moved in, reaching for the slender neck that he was confident that he could snap without too much opposition from so weedy looking an opponent; but Chauvelin, despite weeks of incarceration, was faster. The smaller man grabbed up the stool that was one of the few meagre pieces of furniture in the room; and used it to fend off his assailant, getting in a blow or two.

He mistook how fast the other might move however; and the big assassin managed to grab one of the legs of the stool. Chauvelin held on grimly; if once his opponent managed to wrest the makeshift weapon from him it would be all over. But with one hand on, the assassin could grab another leg; and then he was twisting inexorably, and if Chauvelin did not let go he would either be turned over and fall or would have his arms broken; and the hold on the legs was more certain than his automatically defensive grasp of the seat. He must let go; and let go he did. His left arm raised to ward off the inevitable blow from the stool, and he felt the bone break and as the incredible nausea of the pain washed him and he had become certain that he would die, that peculiar inane laugh that had haunted him so long sounded; and as he was wondering if Sir Percy Blakeney was also dead and was set to greet him and torment him in Hell, the huge figure of his assailant slumped to the floor with a sickening thud.

An equally disreputable guard was regarding him; this much Chauvelin managed to make out through the red mists of pain.

"Egad! I appear to have arrived in the nick of time, wot?" said Sir Percy's cheerful voice.

Chauvelin sat down hard on the floor; and a firm but gentle hand was pushing his head down between his legs.

"I – you are the last person I expected to see" said Chauvelin.

"Truly? You seemed more relieved than surprised" said Sir Percy.

"Too drained of any emotion to show much is closer to the case" said Chauvelin, who was regaining himself enough to show some waspishness. "I – I have to say thank you" he added unwillingly "I know you are here – if you are here for me and it is not a coincidence – that it is for my daughter's sake; but nonetheless I thank you."

"Fie man! I can't resist the challenge!" said Sir Percy gaily "And you still talk too much. If you can stand, I have orders to remove the live one and take him out; your would-be killer was expecting to be taken to a certain house where he would receive a purse of gold but he would have been disappointed; because his employer gave me minute instructions to take him somewhere quiet and silence him. Here, put on his cap and I'll drape his coat around you; we shall have a doctor to that arm of yours in as short a time as we might. You're a plucky fighter, I'll say that for you."

Chauvelin rose, rather shakily, and permitted the Scarlet Pimpernel to dress him in the filthy Phrygian hat of the assassin that was so foul its original colour of red was scarcely discernable, at least in the poor light of the cell. The man's coat added to his bulk if not his inches though he winced getting the broken arm in.

"Well done" said Sir Percy "I'm going to hold you by the upper arm as though as your gaoler and I'll support that broken bone with my hand out of sight."

"You think of everything Sir Percy" said Chauvelin thinly, accepting the aid more gladly that he would have liked to have admitted.

"I do my best" said Sir Percy modestly "But do try not to remember my name, man; walls have ears you know."

Chauvelin nodded curtly.

He was in a turmoil; always he had been self sufficient, had cut himself off from kin to marry the woman he loved, only to lose her in childbed a year later; had been too proud to beg for help from relatives who would show their aristo arrogance for what they would see as his failures; and since he had willingly embraced the culture of the revolution, at least part in vengeance for the attitude of his family and their friends, there had been little room for the common courtesies of life; uncouthness was the order of the day, courtesy seen as the mark of an aristo. And so he had no knowledge of gratitude; and certainly not how to express it. So he took refuge in a surly silence as the filthy guard who was his saviour escorted him out of the Temple prison and through the quiet streets of Paris almost deserted so early in the morning before more than the first costers were abroad purchasing goods from the early farmers.

He was half fainting with the pain by the time the journey was done; indeed he finished the journey carried like a child in Sir Percy's strong and capable arms, swooning too much to care about the loss of dignity.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 Peter as Protector**

Peter had settled into the apartment that constituted the safe house in which Chauvelin and she were to spend the next few weeks; and was relieved to find that there were two bedrooms. Sir Percy had not considered for one moment that his charge – what else might one call Chauvelin? Not a prisoner, nor yet really likely to be as grateful a near worshipper as many of those rescued by the League – would in any wise be pleased to share a room with any of the league; and nor did he feel that Sir Tony, the original intended guardian or gaoler would bear to be sharing a room with Chauvelin.

There was, too, a large sitting room and a small kitchen; and a woman who lived downstairs had accepted English gold to come up and cook once a day. Peter was glad; ordering the kitchen was one thing, actually cooking for herself was another. She had chatted to Citizeness Marie-France and asked her to teach a poor bachelor a few skills in the kitchen and had bussed the motherly woman on the cheek with all the aplomb a young bravo might manage and won that worthy's heart entirely by a mixture of boyish enthusiasm and a few well-turned compliments. Peter had accompanied her brother to enough inns when out riding with him to know what went down well with tavern wenches; and how an English swell might be expected to behave.

It had been a gruelling ride into Paris; somehow there were fresh horses for them at regular intervals but the ride of three days had left her sore and shattered; though the Chief's smile and murmur 'good lad' over her uncomplaining discomfort was reward enough for the stiffness and soreness. Good Marie-France had heated water for her, for a hot bath; and Peter had gladly soaked and changed entirely for the fresh clothes that were in the saddlebag Froggie had already packed. He was taller and larger than she of course; but Peter had also shrewdly packed her sewing basket and made swift, temporary alterations to improve the way her jacket sat; and cinched a belt over the breeches under one of Froggie's more sober, but still moderately startling waistcoats.

After a hot bath and in clean clothes she felt more herself and wished that her hair would not go even more curly when it was freshly washed. Marie-France laid a meal before her and Peter gaily bid the good woman to marry her.

"Get away with you, M'sieur!" said Marie-France, laughing.

-/-

Peter knew when to expect her charge; and had Marie-France heating water for he too would be in need of a bath no doubt; though she was not expecting that he would arrive half carried, half supported by Sir Percy.

"Lud, I think a coffin might be more appropriate than a bath" she said, moving to the other side of the injured man.

"He has a broken arm; as well as having suffered considerable privation" said Sir Percy "I go to find a doctor."

"Isn't that an unwarranted risk?" said Peter. "I've patched up Froggie myself often enough; he's more neck-or-nothing than I am and having an accident-prone brother teaches basic surgeon skills very quickly. The local wise-woman showed me how to set his arm last time he broke it – he came to France with you before it was fully healed too – so if you can get me clean linen and if possible comfrey and certainly laudanum for his pain we shall do very nicely without bringing in extra people."

"Egad, you have more skills than I thought!" said Sir Percy "Well, lad, if you do know how to set bones you might end up as the league's official surgeon!"

Peter laughed.

"I'll consider accepting that position, chief" she said. "I'll get his clothes cut away then if you can find me the necessary things?"

Sir Percy nodded. He was happy to leave those who had special skills to get on with it; like Tom and his skill in bribing, cajoling, stealing and otherwise acquiring whatever was needed. If the lad had healing skills it gave excuse to leave him in safe houses rather than risk him too much on the streets until he was older.

Had Sir Percy been less equivocal and therefore less preoccupied over the rightness of this mission in his own mind he might have noticed more readily that the slender delicate hands that started to cut away the filthy rags to which Chauvelin had been reduced moved with womanly care; but having merely ascertained that those hands seemed to know what they were doing he nodded satisfaction and left on a quest for medical supplies. The boy was right; he knew some doctors who owed him favours; others might be bribed. But it was still a risk.

They had some time in hand; but he knew for certain that the corpse in the cell WOULD be checked by Chauvelin's enemies and they would see that the wrong one was dead; and sooner or later it would come out that the original guard who had been summoned to remove the assassin had been laid out and tied up for his mistress to find. What should hopefully NOT come out was that he had been well paid with English gold, which sang louder and more tunefully for most than the strains of the patriotic Marseillaise. Percy reckoned that by the time Paris was truly awake the screams of outrage would have started reverberating around the Directory; and orders would be sent out to stop any party with a small slight man would go out as fast as horse could gallop; all of Chauvelin's known haunts would be visited; and Calais would be closed. The _Day Dream_ had sailed away after disembarking those of the League who had accompanied him; and would not return for three weeks. By then they should have decided that they had lost Chauvelin; and moving him out of Paris and out of France would be much easier.

In the meantime, his friends would be arriving and organising the leaving of Paris by as many small, slight men of sober appearance as they might; a priest known to be of similar build summoned, but one who was an Abjuring priest, who co-operated with the authorities, who should not be at risk; a lawyer whose practices were less than scrupulous and for whom a hard time did not trouble Sir Percy in the least; an undertaker, sent for to collect a body – doubtless the gate guards would also wish to search the coffin, as fruitlessly as the undertaker sought the body he was sent for – and other such minor, yet normal missions. The idea was to flood the gates with as many false Chauvelins as possible whilst the real one stayed quietly in Paris.

And in light of that unfortunate broken arm the plan that Sir Percy had formulated was just as well; it would take the greater part of three weeks for the bone to substantially heal, assuming at that good care.

-/-

Chauvelin came to himself with the air reaching his body as his clothes were cut and peeled away by someone with the face of an angel surrounded by an aureole of golden curls like a halo. An angel however would scarcely be taking his clothes off. He blinked and assimilated a slender body dressed after the style of an English dandy but yet not quite fitting like paint as a dandy demanded.

"Not your clothes" he managed.

"No sir; my brother's. He was all packed to come and went and broke his leg; his own stupid fault. So I came instead" said Peter "With the clothes I stood up in and his pack. Lud but his taste in waistcoats is terrible! I feel a quiz, I assure you! It's more sober garb I fancy for myself; but until mine own is washed I must needs make do with Froggie's execrable taste! If you are conscious I shall hurt you less if you can move sufficiently to aid me with the stripping of you; you've more wounds on you than the broken arm. Methinks indeed you've been in a rough house with a very nasty customer!"

"He was rather more concerned with killing me than hurting me but now you mention it I believe he did get in a few unpleasant kicks and blows" said Chauvelin. "What is your name, or am I not permitted to know that?"

"Oh I'm Peter" said Peter "M'brother calls me Petey, but it's a nursery name; save when he calls me Otter."

"Otter?"

"On account of our family name; Holte, you know. Otters live in a holt. And you heard me refer to him as Froggie to the chief, which is from Frogham and as Fleurette has written to you, you already know where she's staying so that's no secret given away. I call him Toadface when we fight, though" she added cheerfully. "The chief didn't say to be so careful though of course it's good practice to never name HIM; bad habits can form too easily."

"On Fleurette's account I owe him a very great deal" said Chauvelin bitterly.

"Well it's partly because she's staying with us and I like her that I came in Froggie's stead" said Peter frankly. "She has spoken much of you; it conflicts somewhat in content with what I've heard elsewhere but I intend to make up my own mind. I'll have plenty of time; we're laying snug here for three weeks while the bloodhounds charge about looking for the scent of you leaving and until they sound the 'Gone Away!' whereat we vacate your snug earth here and stroll out casually after they've given up."

"A logical plan; how like the Scarlet Pimpernel to be so well prepared" said Chauvelin "May I ask if my daughter has transferred her affections to you that you stand so staunch a friend to her?"

Peter grinned.

"'Pon rep, no! She cleaves to her Amédé – limited sort of fellow but kind, which I suppose is the main thing for a gentle girl like Fleurette; she's m'sister's closest companion so almost a spare sister as you might say. I'm not in the petticoat line yet; fancy free and no intention of changing my mind doncher know! Now I am going to hurt you cruelly when I set that; I'm hoping the chief will be here soon with splints and linen; I'll wash that arm first so the dressing goes on clean; you'll have to bath with one arm out I'm afraid and if you wish to wash your hair it might be better if I do it for you in a bowl after bathing; and I'll shave you too. I've watched Froggie's valet do it often enough. Even did it for him the morning he left to join the League before his arm was properly mended; he said it was handy to have a younger si-ibling who could be ordered about who wouldn't scold him like his valet would. He'd mended enough by the time he got back to shave himself so he wasn't too gruesome a sight" she grinned, covering her horror that she had almost made a slip there and had needed to hastily turn the word sister into sibling!

Chauvelin grunted. He might have hoped that Fleurette had found a better match for herself but there! Fleurette was a loyal girl; and her love for Amédé Colombe was hardly likely to fail.

There was a knock on the door, the peculiar series of raps that was the code; and Peter went to let in Sir Percy, exclaiming gladly that he had managed to get all she had asked for save comfrey.

"Well with the war against England I expect all the supplies of Bone-knit, which is its country name, will have gone to the soldiery" she said. "Splints; good; I forgot to ask you for them, I was wondering if I should have to use firewood. But these straight smooth sticks are perfect. Will you hold my patient down while I set the bone?"

"I'm sure he'll be only too glad to" said Chauvelin sarcastically.

Sir Percy wordlessly held his shoulders while Peter quickly pulled the displaced bone straight and twisted it into the right place. Chauvelin cried out and fainted again while she applied a piece of linen then rapidly bound on the splints.

"Prickly fellow, wot?" she said to Sir Percy.

"It's not a comfortable position I wager" laughed Percy "Owing his life and liberty to his greatest enemy! Keep him secure Peter; he's not to step outside on any pretext. You have the pistol I gave you?"

Peter nodded.

"It seems a little wrong to save him and then threaten to shoot him" she said.

"We can hope it doesn't come to that; but with luck you can, if you have to shoot him, shoot to incapacitate."

She nodded.

"That should not be a problem" she said. "I doubt I could culp a wafer as it is said the best shots do; but I'm no mean shot. And this is a fine pistol. I see there's a chess set; I hope he plays. Are there cards too? I hope I can keep him from impatience."

"Oh my friend M. Chambertin is good at playing the waiting game when he has to; and I believe he has regained consciousness. Here's the laudanum; it has instructions of the dose written on it in some excruciating hand that I hope you can read."

Peter checked the tiny bottle; and nodded.

"You're away?" she asked.

Sir Percy nodded.

"I have things to do" he said "I shall see you in three weeks unless some emergency arises that means we must move you early; you should have warning of any domiciliary search. Use the disguises and papers I showed you."

"And it will while away the time to get our stories straight for any prepared disguises with such tiny details as may add to them some verisimilitude" nodded Peter. "Godspeed chief."

And then he was gone; and Marie-France was bringing up buckets of hot water.

"There's clean linen for after your bath" said Peter to Chauvelin "Your arm should be more comfortable now and easy enough to have the dignity of dressing yourself; call if you need aid."

"I – thank you" said Chauvelin. He was glad not to need help with bathing from a mere stripling; and how good it was to lower his aching body into hot water, to soak away the feel of the prison!

He emerged later, pale but more himself.

"I should like to take up your offer of aid with my hair and a shave" he said abruptly.

Peter nodded.

"I have clean hot water on our own little stove here; I think we may as well return to your bedroom so I can empty it into the bath for Marie-France to empty" she said.

Peter was used to the rituals of a man's morning toilet of shaving and cravat tying; she would generally lounge around telling her brother he was a fop and discussing other more important business with him while his valet shaved him and he tied his excessive cravats. Washing someone else's hair was a challenge; but she pictured in her own mind the rituals her own maid employed and with such resource managed to do the job without drowning her charge or getting soap in his eye. Soap was a rare commodity in France; but Froggie had packed several bars of English soap knowing of old the deficiencies and having his own fastidious tastes.

"English lavender" said Chauvelin "A different scent to French lavender."

"The cleanest scent in the world" said Peter cheerfully. "Now I believe that the chief has been good enough to provide you with your own shaving kit so I shall not be in danger of being too badly whipped by Froggie for blunting his razor on your prison whiskers. It's I suppose a way of destroying a man, to take away his self respect. The Bourbons might have been just asking for revolution, but it's a filthy regime that does that sort of thing to a man."

Chauvelin blinked. He knew well the value of breaking self respect but to have this young English bravo saying that the Bourbons had asked for revolution was a surprise.

"You actually approve the execution of the ci-devant royalty?" he said.

"We English preceded you in the cutting off of the head of a monarch who was rather out of touch with is people if you recall" said Peter dryly "And though my family were staunch Royalists one can rather see the point of the other side, though Cromwell was no improvement. Still he was not such a terrible mistake as the likes of Robespierre. The revolution in France, methinks, got out of hand because the aristocracy had too little knowledge and less concern for the woes of the commons; it engendered anger and violence and violence given unbridled rein had a tendency to rage unabated without strength in leadership to bring it under control. And the leaders were as hate-filled as their tools; it's the Latin temperament I suppose. We English are too phlegmatic to get so over excited. France is a tragedy; for the poor fools in the streets who have life no better than it was before the revolution; and who have had years of fear of denunciation if they have a rival or enemy into the bargain. But they can only hate because they have had the finer emotions beaten and drained from them; and that began with the subjection of them under the insensitive of the aristocrats. I have met those that the League has brought to England; most are innocents whose crime was to be born to the wrong family at the wrong time, or to have compassion for others who were the wrong people. Yet among them, for the league does not abandon the loved ones of those they rescue just because they despise them, are those who I would cheerfully see go to the guillotine for their despicable attitude; like Francois de la Rodiere who embodies all the worst characteristics of arrogance and cruelty that encouraged the revolution in the first place. I abhor such bad manners as the likes of that young Marquis display; because the aristocrats of France forgot to be gentlemen."

"An interesting view" said Chauvelin "I would not think it prevalent in England; and certainly amongst members of the League."

"As to the League I cannot say; I am such a new member I do not know many of them even by sight" said Peter "Though I suspect that of all the gentlemen of England they must surely have the most realistic idea of the way some of those they have rescued have behaved; for a man is marked by the way he behaves to underlings. Nowadays in France I imagine it is harder because any who do not assume the trappings of the bully are mistaken in their ways as weaklings and have to behave harshly to show they are not; and of course such things become habit. But there was never any excuse for it in the behaviour of those reared to high estate. For the most part, however, I fear that a gentleman, by the very definition of what a gentleman is, expects others to behave with his own code of honour; and so automatically assumes that the nobility of France is as the nobility of England, where an arrogant blackguard is despised. Thus they assume that all aristocrats are righteous and all the masses who rose are evil; as false a view as that promulgated under the Terror that the dirty, ruder and more foul mouthed a sans-culotte be, the more virtuous and patriotic he must be also. People as a mass are fools I'm afraid" she sighed.

Chauvelin gave a harsh bark of laughter.

"Well I agree with you on the last point; that most people are fools. And I suspect they always have been; and always will be" he said. "I'm agreeably surprised to find a member of the League who is not an unthinking royalist."

"Royalty can't realistically expect to retain a throne without at least some knowledge of what goes on about them" said Peter "It's a moral obligation for their exalted position. I grant you our own royal family is not as clever as some; but then England is a constitutional monarchy not an absolutist regime; and Louis XVI was a weak man and a foolish one, following on in a regime set up by the machinations of a scheming monarch like Louis XIV and Cardinal Mazarin who may even have been more manipulative and ambitious than the infamous Cardinal Richlieu" she grinned "I wonder if the chief had lived in the time of the Roi Soleil a certain cardinal would have been dubbed 'Marzipan' in short order."

"More than likely; he will have his little joke" said Chauvelin grimly.

"It could have been worse, sir; he could have dubbed you 'M. Camembert'" said Peter cheerfully "Though with wine and cheese, all we need is a loaf of bread and we have a picnic of you; please don't wince or I fear I may nick you and then the chief will think me but a poor hand as your valet!"

Chauvelin had no desire to be cut by the cut-throat razor either; and held himself still without further comment. He had much to ponder; this youth had the same joking insouciance that typified all the League but a far more revolutionary outlook than he might have looked for; and he had really thought hard about the subject, that was plain. Chauvelin knew – and how often it was to his cost that he knew! – that Sir Percy was a very intelligent man; but to have one of his supporters give what could only be described as a balanced view was a surprise. Armand St Just had been filled once with republican zeal, but as Chauvelin well knew that young man had been filled with more fervour than balanced thought. This youth could reason; and as such should at least provide reasonable conversation if they were to be confined together; and would too be a potentially very dangerous enemy. Or for brotherly affection towards Fleurette, a potential ally.

_the use of the term Marzipan might be an anachronism since most people would have still been calling it Marchpane but I couldn't resist the joke; and it is not inconceivable that a well-connected well-educated girl like Peter might have come across the German or Spanish term for it. Marchpane/Marzipan was enjoying greater popularity due to the introduction of sugar beet which made its production less prohibitively expensive and contributed to its popularity._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 Chess and Conversation**

"Do you play?" Chauvelin glanced at the chess board next morning. A good night's sleep on a fair mattress and the chance to wash had done wonders for his sense of well-being; and stubbornly he had shaved himself with only one cut to show for it. Peter was looking critically at the clot of blood as they ate brioches to break their fast.

"Indifferently" said Peter in answer to the question "But if you are good, I daresay that being beaten a few times will teach me to improve, if not with as much incentive as to avoid bruises from a foil to punish a weak guard. Froggie is not a chess player; and our tutor preferred to talk about the history of the game, which may be fascinating but does not teach clever gambits."

"Well if you will play a game I shall give you the advantage of being white to start" said Chauvelin.

Peter nodded.

"Very well" she said, setting up the board swiftly, as soon as they had finished eating. She advanced the Queen's pawn.

"An unconventional start; weaker than the usual king's gambit" commented Chauvelin "Do you wish to take that back?"

"No; one learns what works and what does not through play" said Peter. Chauvelin matched her pawn to block it; and she advanced her bishop to the side of the board. He brought out a knight. Peter moved her queen.

"Check" she said "Actually I believe checkmate."

Chauvelin stared; then gave half a laugh.

"I thought you said you played indifferently?" he said.

"I do" said Peter "That's a trick gambit but it only works against an opponent who does not know it. Once known, it's awfully easy to counter. Only it gives me a moral advantage to have a victory. Besides, I was curious to know whether the wiliest man in France knew that one."

"I may have done once; it has been a long time since I had a decent game" admitted Chauvelin. "Well as you say I am forearmed."

He won the next four games before Marie-France brought in a hot meal; and Peter conceded a virtually untenable position to move the chess board for their meal to be set. She was in no wise upset to lose constantly; but asked questions after each game so that she might learn; and Chauvelin answered them. It was in some wise like talking to Fleurette, in his education of his daughter, explaining things to this mere child of a boy.

Marie-France tutted that their food might get cold while they put away the pieces; and Chauvelin said, pleasantly enough but with an edge to his voice,

"Then we shall be the ones to suffer for it, citizeness."

"The good Marie-France is concerned that we shall not properly appreciate her undoubted culinary skill" said Peter "And the smell is appetising; your cleverness in the kitchen does you credit Marie-France."

The woman had flushed with some asperity at Chauvelin's remark; and changed to a pleased blush at Peter's. She was moved to bob an awkward curtsey.

"Now WHY does she have to do that in a land of equality?" said Chauvelin in irritation.

"Why, because it is an acknowledgement of my compliment to her; even as exchanging bows is an exchange of courtesy" said Peter. "It is plain from much of your manner that you were born an aristo; did you not nod your head to acknowledge a pulled forelock or a curtsey from servants or villagers? It is the loss of such exchanges that erode equality not add to it, for it removes respect; and respect must surely go both ways in order to have a stable society. This is why it has been so easy for the mob to remove once popular leaders; there is fear without respect."

"Hmph" said Chauvelin "Well let us eat ere it does get cold."

The roast was mutton; parboiled before roasting to produce a sufficiently tender meat that Chauvelin exclaimed in surprise. Peter beamed.

"The chief collects some surprising specialists, does he not?" she said "Marie-France was a kitchen wench once in a great household; she and her husband moved to Paris when she wed to set up an independent life. And you need to have your appetite tempted and to be fed up for I would lie if I did not say that I noticed that you have become much emaciated during your involuntary stay at the hospitality of the Temple. The chief thinks of things like that."

"I have never run to embonpoint at the best of times" said Chauvelin "And I fancy that worry over Fleurette before my er, involuntary stay at the Temple started the process. I am not a gourmand; but I have to say this is a real treat."

"Oh we have little but good plain cooking at the Hall since the cook left in high dudgeon after Froggie had exploded the chimney a little bit" said Peter "And a widow from the village took over running the kitchen. With less fracas and fuss and a lot more wholesome meals actually if you ask me."

"I am intrigued I confess" said Chauvelin "Your brother exploded the chimney a little bit? Surely he does not also display the revolutionary zeal you seem to harbour that he should make such a protest about your cook?"

Peter chuckled.

"It was by way of an attempt to remove some clogged soot" she said "Which it did; only not upwards, like Froggie's theory said it ought to, but downwards. It took days to clean; and Froggie's conscience meant that he would try to help – that I suspect the maids had preferred he did not – and my conscience for egging him on meaning I too looked a veritable blackamoor like him. However we DO both know now how to scrub a floor properly. It was not long after Papa died; and Froggie was trying so hard to be the man of the house and take responsibility for everything instead of just hiring a sweep to do it properly as any sensible person would do. Mrs Appleby is a definite improvement on M. Lebois who felt that everything needed to be smothered in sauce and rich enough to make you feel faintly nauseous. I think he's cooking for someone fashionable in London; when Froggie's been to some rout or dinner where the food is more fanciful than filling he claims that they've hired M. Lebois."

"You have no mother then to order such things as sweeps?" asked Chauvelin.

"No; it's why I – and m'sister of course – have such fellow feeling towards Fleurette" said Peter "Because like her, we survived our mother who died in childbed. "

"And you lost your father too?"

"Lud, It does sound almost careless when you put it that way" said Peter "Froggie's a chip off the old block; papa died in a hunting accident that was not actually entirely his fault. I suppose that's why I'm so keen to see Fleurette's Bibi delivered safely; so that she should not lose a father too. With only one parent one tends to rather cleave to them, especially when they are not always there so time with them is precious. One covers the loss with flippancy but it does not make it the less poignant; and so I am determined that Fleurette shall not be orphaned."

"You English are extraordinary" said Chauvelin "It is easy to misread you, to assume that you have no very deep feelings about anything at times; you are all very deep."

"I suppose" said Peter thoughtfully "It is that we consider putting feelings on display a little impolite; because then one almost forces any company one is in to react to that; to have to feel too, when perhaps they do not want to. One expects the projection of emotion in a play; and one attends such in the expectation of running a gamut of emotion as a means of safely expressing feelings without hurting others; but one does not expect to have to suddenly deal with emotion from others and nor does one expect to force one's feelings onto others."

"Nobody has ever attempted to explain the English phlegm to me before; nor to analyse it" said Chauvelin "It makes much clear however about the English character and actually is more meaningful than the laughing comment that showing emotion is er, 'bad form, wot' as I'm sure the Scarlet Pimpernel would put it."

"We are uncomfortable about discussing feelings" said Peter "But I had the bad manners to open the subject in discussing why I feel fellowship with Fleurette; and so an explanation was owed."

"Will you tell me how she is?" Chauvelin fought to keep the wistfulness from his voice. For him it was not a matter of courtesy to hide emotion but a protection; in revolutionary France emotion and feeling were weaknesses others could exploit. Ah! How hard a lesson it had been at first; though not perhaps so hard for one who felt that half his feeling had died along with his pretty golden haired wife; and how well too had he learned to exploit the cracks in the armour of others, using the torturer's probe of subtle, often only implied threats to those for whom they had betrayed affection! How too he had exploited other emotional weaknesses – pride, woman's pique, jealousy; and how the shades of those he had thus tortured mocked him in his hours of terror for his beloved Fleurette!

Peter smiled.

"Fleurette is as happy as it is possible to be whilst still under anxiety over your safety" she said "Yet as soon as the Chief let her know that you would be coming to her soon she had every trust in him and lost all anxiety and bloomed as does a wilting flower on which the gentle rain of spring falls; she is well named. She is pretty and dainty and graceful and I think we all long to see that no troubles cloud her blue eyes; even those of us who have normally no romance at all in our souls. I have heard the story of course; and though I deplore her excess of honesty to save Adele who had so willingly betrayed her, I think that nothing else would have been possible for one so GOOD as Fleurette. I could never hope to be so truly good as she; and actually I should not like to be so; for one would need an awful lot of protecting in this wicked world. Fortunately Amédé is quite equal to protecting her; he is a good man. I think there are some men who thrive on having a wife that they can protect; and others who seek one who is more of an equal. And some who think that they want to protect and then find it irksome when they have to; and if such are as lucky as the chief, whose wife is strong enough to be a foil for him, they may be happy. Amédé adores Fleurette and she will be glad to turn to him always for advice and support. She and my sister are as different as can be, which is why they get on so well, a foil for each other in temperament if not in looks. My sister would hate to be cosseted and protected; and egad, any man who wished to do so would find her a very virago! Yet she is happy to protect Fleurette and call her a sweet angel misplaced from Heaven and loaned to us on earth."

The revolutionary's face had softened.

"She is an angel" he said "I tried to cushion her, to keep from her all that was happening, all that I am; and that was her downfall, her sweet belief that I could sort everything out."

"It must be hard for you to have to acknowledge that you are ashamed of your actions" said Peter.

His face was hard again.

"Ashamed? Who says I am ashamed? I have done what I have had to do!"

"If you were not ashamed, you would not have had to conceal what Armand Chauvelin was from Fleurette so that she only knew her Bibi" said Peter "And nor would you have to take so hot a tone with me to try to convince me that you feel no regret for the things you have done."

Chauvelin raised his good hand; and she met his eyes. Eyes as blue as Fleurette's. Did he perhaps see his own daughter standing there with faint reproach in her eyes, superimposed on the figure of the slender youth he ached to strike? Who can say! But in any case he dropped his hand.

"I have had enough of your childish babbling" he said "I will lie down in my room for a while; I am tired."

"Do you wish a drop or two of laudanum?" asked Peter.

It was sheer perversity that made him refuse an offer of a kindness after he had almost hit the boy; and it was not long before he was regretting it in pain.

And as he was wondering whether he should grit his teeth and bear it, or swallow his pride and ask, there was a light tap on the door and Peter came in with a glass.

"I was hoping you had got over being stubborn by now, M. Chauvelin" she said

He took the glass without thanks and drank it; and Peter took it from him and withdrew.

The boy was an irritating brat!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 A Visit from Sir percy**

The days started to settle to a routine; chess all morning, at which Peter was steadily improving, and discussions, or sometimes arguments in the afternoon. They compared their education as a means of passing the time and tacitly stayed – mostly – off politics. The evenings were spent playing piquet and occasionally loo, for, at Peter's suggestion, enormous and imaginary stakes since neither of them had any ready bar the emergency purse of gold she kept against need that had been another thing she had picked up in a hurry.

Chauvelin had consented; piquet might be played for the joy of the game, and was complex enough with its need to count and keep numbers in the head to please him; loo was a gambling game however and though he played mostly to give his youthful partner a break from more serious concentration – for Chauvelin was no gambler and despised those who were – he had to admit that there was a certain amusement to be had in hazarding the Notre Dame against the boy's proffered Versailles. Obviously young Peter was no gambler as he did not take the game at all seriously; and Chauvelin even found himself laughing over the jokes and antics cut by his young opponent on losing the Kingdom of Naples.

-/-

They had been in the house almost a week when there the coded knock sounded on the door.

Contrary to his intent, Sir Percy was concerned about the newest and youngest member of his band in the company of a fiendishly clever creature like Chauvelin; and he wished to check all was well.

"Odd's life, chief, are we in trouble?" asked Peter.

"Not a bit of it!" declared Percy "Just dropped in to see how it was going; if you needed anything; if you and the patient were bearing up."

"Oh we rub along tolerably well" said Peter "As well at least as if he were my wife and only a bit of a nag" and she grinned at Chauvelin.

"I maintain a patient wait, Sir Percy" said Chauvelin "I place my trust in your skills; because I place Fleurette's happiness in your hands. You might provide me with a switch for the boy however; it's a cheeky brat."

Sir Percy had actually never seen Chauvelin more relaxed; and raised an eyebrow at Peter.

"He's right; I called him M, Camembert yesterday to tease him" said Peter unrepentantly.

"Ah, not so distinguished a comestible as M. Chambertin" drawled Sir Percy "His desires to assault you become more explicable."

"He claims I owe him Whitehall and Salisbury Cathedral and I swear it is he that owes me the Tuilleries and Versailles which he won off me the day before" laughed Peter.

"Ah, gaming debts; I never interfere between the gaming debts of others" said Sir Percy. "On a point of play however I may be able to clarify matters."

"We knocked the table over because of the rat" said Chauvelin "And lost track of where we were. That is all, you silly boy!"

"I knocked the table over in a fit of unnecessary squeamishness" said Peter. "I never saw a rat that close to before; they are mean looking creatures. I believe" she blushed "I also yelped in consternation."

"You did" said Chauvelin "But the aim of your shoe to kill the wretched creature made up for so un-League like a show of lack of fortitude."

"So the only rats that are visiting you are the four legged variety and none of the Directory?" laughed Percy "That's good. Well if you need nothing I shall be on my way. Try not to quarrel too much; the neighbours might not like it."

It was, reflected, Percy, quite odd to see Chauvelin not only relaxed but almost genial. There was that in the boy's colouring that must recall Fleurette to the old villain's mind; perhaps he was able to look upon Peter as the son he never had, a brother for Fleurette; or perhaps that was ascribing too much humanity to the terrorist. Of necessity he would be taking Laudanum which had a dulling effect upon the senses; perhaps the privations of the Temple had been enough that the chance to just rest and eat and be clean in moderately pleasant surroundings, at least by comparison, was a temporary amelioration of Chauvelin's drive to gain every advantage that he might. He had shown no desire to express gratitude bar that heartfelt thanks wrung from him for his life in the prison cell; and had he done so, Percy would have felt uncomfortable for he had no desire to have Chauvelin grateful to him. It would put one almost under an obligation to the fellow. Could he have actually given up scheming and manipulating now that he was effectively removed from any portion of the corridors of power? It seemed unlikely. Well so long as he was causing no trouble for Peter beyond minor arguments that seemed not to be out of hand there was nothing to worry about.

-/-

"He came to see if I had done you any harm" said Chauvelin to Peter.

"I cannot see why he should wonder that; I may be a cheeky brat but at least I've a lively mind and can debate without resorting to name calling or specious argument" said Peter "And it's rather in your interests to have some form of entertainment to while away the next couple of weeks so harming me would be against your interests as well as definitely against mine."

Chauvelin gave a cynical laugh.

"He doesn't trust me not to try to corrupt you; perhaps persuading you to seek out papers by which I might have a hold over those in power and snatch my position back" he said.

"Do you really want it when you can go instead to Fleurette?" asked Peter. "It's a bit unfair to her if you do."

"You know where to stick the knife in, boy" said Chauvelin. "I have been in two minds. But if Fleurette wants me after the damned souls tried to have me assassinated in my cell, I see no reason that they should have my genius at their disposal. I suppose I should like to know who had the idea and effect a revenge on them" he said, meditatively.

"And I'm not about to go running about Paris – a city I don't really know In any case – just to satisfy your urges for revenge, M. Chauvelin" said Peter "My orders are to stay hid with you, and see that you too stay here. If you want to discomfort them you should tell the chief where such papers are hid to use or not as he sees fit. It would be an apposite payment to him for risking his skin for you; as you are not a man who likes to be beholden, methinks."

"I do not like it; I will consider that" said Chauvelin. He did not seriously ever think that he would have the chance to use such papers as he had; not now. The Scarlet Pimpernel however might be able to do so; which would do his job of revenge for him and too give a means to be out of debt to the League. Yes, he would most certainly consider it. He looked approvingly on the boy.

If only he could be sure that the stay in the Temple had NOT started to drive him insane; because there was something that was definitely troubling him. It was unnerving when he looked at this boy to feel a stirring in his loins; surely such forbidden desires could not be caused by the torture of solitary confinement alone? Not that there was any reason to give in to such; save for the desire that went hand in hand with love that he had felt for his dear wife so long ago he had always banished any desires from his mind most firmly as soon as they had arisen. But they had only ever been for females; like Marguerite Blakeney who had stirred him enough that he had taken satisfaction in showing how little she truly affected him in his using of her against Sir Percy. But a BOY!

He would get over it.

"You do not know Paris you say; but it might be wise if I draw you maps and show you how to get about" he said "Our lives might depend upon it."

Peter nodded.

"True; and as all the personae that we might be expected to assume are natives of Paris to have a lack of knowledge would be suspicious" she said "But I'm still not going after your papers you know; I know my limitations. I'm not going out at all if I can avoid it; because for all I know the chief's plans depend on nobody leaving this apartment because he's planning on taking us out in coffins claiming us to have been dead three weeks with a pile of dead rats or cats surrounding us so that anyone who tries to lift the lid shuts it hurriedly again."

"That is a remarkably cunning plan; though there are those enough inured to bad smells to disregard such" said Chauvelin "That is what he intends? I did not think he confided plans to his League ahead of time."

"He doesn't; I made it up on the spur of the moment" said Peter "As a reason for neither of us to go out; because I don't know WHAT he intends."

"Well you appear to have a sufficiently fertile brain to be an asset to him" said Chauvelin.

Peter grinned.

"Or alternatively what my brother calls a lurid imagination" she said.

"HOW old did you say you were?" demanded Chauvelin.

"I didn't" said Peter "I'm eighteen next week; and it's a jolly good job in a way Froggie has broken his leg because it's a good excuse to cancel the ball for er us, my sister and me; bearing in mind I shan't be there."

"That doesn't seem to trouble you" said Chauvelin.

"I don't really like social events" said Peter, half apologetically "Froggie gets very worried about it; he took me to some ball in York last year and I discovered that the place we were had a really good library and he felt that he had to apologise for me because he finally ran me to earth reading. Reading has shown me that people don't actually change, whatever people may say about the way the mobs in the terror becoming less than human; the same thing happened in the times of plague, as you might find in Boccaccio. Though my sister would like to have seen him hanged for writing such a story as patient Grisilde."

"Ah, she follows the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft then?" asked Chauvelin.

"Yes" said Peter. "We've all had the same tutor and there's no difference between us because of that, well apart from the fact that Froggie escaped from the tutor's clutches as often as he might. But even without going so far as Mary Wollstonecraft, one might read the story of Grishilde, having her children torn from her, sent from her husband and all that rot and think the silly creature deserves everything she gets for not making the least push to get some degree of fairness; or failing that to poison her husband for putting her through so much – as a test, egad! And after years of testing to show she's the perfect submissive wife, after having had to labour for her livelihood, and years on, she would have certainly have lost her looks; and if you ask me, so stupid a fellow as her husband would set her aside for another and younger woman. The bonds of marriage grow with proximity, surely; one grows old together. He has effectively sent her away and made her artificially old by worry, tribulation and so on."

"It has never been a story I have considered particularly edifying myself" said Chauvelin. "Tribulation I suppose brings out the worst in people for the most part; and in the best of people it brings out the best. There are those who admire the dignity and even affability of many of the aristocrats on the guillotine" he half sneered.

"Probably sheer stubborn pride not to give the masses the cheap thrill of seeing them scared" said Peter "Or alternatively some were so inbred that they had not the imagination to be scared because intellect had been bred out of them; or is that unwarrantedly unkind?"

Chauvelin laughed, a trifle nastily.

"Oh it's unkind but alas! Probably not very far from the truth. Your chief will be pained with such views."

"That I hold no illusions and do not look at my own class through the haze of romance and self deception? I think he is more realistic than you give him credit for M. Chauvelin."

"Perhaps; perhaps you see him as more liberal than he truly is."

Peter laughed.

"Oh let us not quarrel over the chief; if you want to divide and conquer it will not be through me."

"He warned you I might do so? As it happens I was not attempting so to do; but to warn you that your youthful ideals might not be universally popular with either your chief or other members of the League" said Chauvelin.

Peter gurgled with mirth.

"Certainly not with Lord Tony; because he wouldn't even know who Boccaccio was I fear" she said.

"It is rather an oddity – or so I find" said Chauvelin – "That if an Englishman rides to hounds and is accounted a good sportsman he must also be a thoroughgoing paragon in the eyes of other Englishmen. Regardless of his intellectual attainments."

"I suppose" said Peter, cocking her head on one side thoughtfully "It is to do with staying within the rules; playing the game as we put it; acting with honour. And honour is accounted greater than intelligence. It's an argument that has its place. I'd rather be clever than be a bruising rider to hounds; but then if I had never been clever I suppose I'd never miss it and I'd want to do something to be memorable. Not that being a scholar is memorable; nobody likes a blue stocking er, or any kind of boring fellow who thinks more of Suetonius than of what horse is going to win the Derby. I enjoy riding – not that I enjoyed the ride to Paris; Calais to Paris in three days is not a joke! – but I really do not actually care all that much if a fox is involved or not."

"Then I am perhaps fortunate that your brother – who sounds an amiable idiot – broke his leg and gave me somewhat more erudite company than him, or even the fatuous Lord Tony" said Chauvelin.

Peter grinned.

"Oh had I not happened along you were to be sentenced to three weeks of Lord Tony on the grounds that he rarely loses his temper" she said.

"Then I thank any powers in the universe I was spared THAT indignity" said Chauvelin with feeling.

Peter chuckled.

"Funnily enough, Lord Tony feels much the same" she said.

"Well I wonder why" said Chauvelin with heavy irony.

_Yes, I know Chaucer also wrote about patient Grishilde but he swiped it – like most of his material before 'Canterbury Tales' from Boccaccio._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 Domiciliary Search**

It was in the middle of the second week that Marie-France ran up the stairs.

"I have word that this street is to be subject to a domiciliary search" she said.

"Thank you citizeness" said Chauvelin.

"Bless you Marie-France; you take care, and don't worry your pretty head about we reprobates" said Peter. Marie France gave her a shaky smile and retired to her own apartment.

Peter opened the secret compartment in the back of the wardrobe and placed the chess set and cards in there, taking out the disguises and baskets of clothing.

"When you have changed, throw your own clothes, those you are wearing as well as those in the room into the basket" she said. "That's why we have the job of sewing clothes for the navy; because the best place to hide a pebble is on the beach. Strip everything save your drawers which are not so different men's from women's; and if they get that far down we're sunk entirely though I suppose it might be enough of a shock to send some insolent and rapacious fellow into a heart attack if he tries anything untoward" she added gaily. The gaiety was assumed; because in her case they would find all the proper appurtenances of a woman.

"You English!" said Chauvelin taking the black cotton gown and shift and the sand-filled bags depended from a harness as bosoms from her. He had practised putting the costume on; it had been something Peter had insisted upon, if only, as she had said, to make sure that if they had to do it for real they would not fall about laughing as they looked at each other. It was fortunate that the current style required a fichu of the most modest above the gown that would hide a lack of cleavage.

With a mob cap over his greying brown locks – more grey since his stay in the temple – he managed to look the part of one of the almost sexless harridans who were the mainstay of the revolution, though cleaner than many. Peter had a pot marked 'grime'; and this she liberally smeared into her own face and hands and onto Chauvelin's face and neck.

He suppressed a gasp and the shudder that threatened to run through him at her gentle touch.

"Why this grime? Are we not of better class?" he asked gruffly to hide that he was stirred by the touch of the youth.

"How many French do you know who are NOT born Aristos like us who would bother to run down to draw water for washing morning and evening in addition to weekly baths – if they take that many?" asked Peter. "We need a modicum of grime; I think I have just enough to show the sweat and dust of the hot late summer city. Even as our clothes are not dirty; but definitely grubby. We are women who sew and wash clothes for sailors; we put our own clothes through the wash when we do others, if there is room in the copper. But we will not change our linen daily. It's why the bedlinen is old; because although it IS perfectly clean, old linen always has a patina of greyness when it reaches a certain degree of thinness. One of our maids was taunted by others for her petticoat looking grey; that's how I know that. She is from a foundling hospital and was sent disgracefully attired. You sit there with the basket and be picking over the clothes, good maman; and I shall be sewing."

"Do you know how?"

"Oh yes; my twin and I studied everything together. You never known when sewing is handy" said Peter airily "Else I had not been able to so conveniently make Froggie's clothes give even an approximate fit. He'll be fit to swoon over what I've done to the way they sit I wager" she said with a giggle.

Chauvelin shook his head and wished – though he pushed the thought aside – that he might have had so close a relationship with HIS brother. At least it had not been on his orders that Robert had gone to the guillotine; but those of Cousin Bertrand.

There was a loud knocking on the door.

"Walk in; it's not barred" called Peter.

The ragged band of soldiery did so.

"Where are your papers, citizenesses?" demanded the captain roughly. Peter got up sinuously from the chair.

"It's our PAPERS he's after is it?" she said, giving the captain a coquettish look. "And there was I, maman, thinking the handsome man had his designs upon your virtue!"

"You are a bad girl Pierrette" said Chauvelin.

Peter gave a low chuckle.

"I get very lonely for a handsome man to talk to when my Jean is away" she said, getting papers from a drawer and passing them to the captain.

"The widow Armandine Lebrun and Citizeness Pierrette Evenay, wife of _Lieutenant de Vaisseau_ Jean Evenay" he read out their names.

"Yes; my husband has promised me much loot from England when they have sunk all those Rosbifs" said Peter, positively cooing.

"Ah, but it is a dangerous life the sea" said the captain, eyeing her slim figure with approval "Perhaps if he meets with any mishap you might look to a man who lives in Paris with a successful career as a captain?"

"Pardi! I think not captain; as an escort to the theatre perhaps but to marry? I prefer a naval man for a husband. They are away most of the time and so not underfoot" she elevated her nose

"Daughter you flirt too much" said Chauvelin in a cracked whine of a voice.

"Eh bien, and why not? Is it not better to amuse oneself than to pine always for a husband who like as not will leave you for some coal black whore on Haiti as father left us?" said Peter with asperity.

The soldiers were conducting a cursory search.

"What are these clothes?" asked the captain "There are men's clothes – such as aristos wear!"

"Naturally; since aristos wore them" said Peter with a sniff "My mother and I make them over for sailors; it is no crime to make sure my husband gets the finest linen I think! And such clothes as are unsuitable for patriots we might either turn into other garments or cut apart as rags. Have you ever seen the like of this waistcoat?" she picked up Froggie's pink and apricot striped silk waistcoat.

"Nom d'un nom! What can you do with that, citizeness?" demanded the captain. "It is a monstrous thing for a man to wear!"

"I thought a child's dress might come from it with some of the fabric from the same aristo's breeches" said Peter. "Now take off your shirt; it is torn. While you are here I might as well make you respectable – in case you DO decide to take me to the theatre. Though it must wait; my husband is due leave and might be home any day" she added as Chauvelin was starting to feel rising horror that after declaring that they must not go out his youthful companion was preparing to do so!

The captain took off his shirt; and Peter sewed it with swift, small competent stitches. She had after all been taught all the womanly skills by her governess; and enjoyed sewing well enough as an alternative pastime to riding or reading.

The captain was delighted.

"Never seen anyone sew so good!" he said "My thanks citizenness!" and he slid an arm about her waist and aimed a kiss at her lips which Peter managed to divert to her cheek.

"Forward hussy!" said Chauvelin "You should watch it captain; her husband is not a man to be trifled with!"

The captain looked uneasy and called his men to him. They were frankly grinning.

"Well, everything seems to be in order" said the captain "Good day to you, citizenesses!"

"A bientôt!" said Peter flirtatiously as she saw them out.

-/-

"Peter! How could you take such risks unnecessarily!" Chauvelin waited until the sound of the soldier's boots had receded all the way down the stairs before shouting at her, grabbing her arm with his good hand to give her a shake.

Peter chuckled.

"Poor maman, were you outraged? I thought I did rather well as a flirt not QUITE so wanton as to be an out and out drab!"

"Oh you did it very well; but what if he had fondled you? Or tried to take you into the bedroom?"

"He would not have done the latter; his men might have reported him for dereliction of duty out of jealousy" said Peter cheerfully "And I fancy I can elude the clumsy gropes of an ape like that. With a little scream and a gentle slap on the face that he should behave so in front of my mother; hinting that when my husband was back at sea and my mother NOT in the room….. I thought that dear Jean's leave being due was a master stroke actually; you are outraged, dear Bibi, that I am outrageous and I swear I believe that boldness carries the day far more often than cringing and looking guilty."

"Well it certainly works for the Scarlet Pimpernel" said Chauvelin grimly. "You were certainly every inch a woman….. Peter, what IS you real name?"

"I did wonder if this would give it away" said Peter, not bothering to dissemble "You are rather too clever for me to expect to get away with it for long. It's Petronilla; I'm a singularity, not a twin. I have not lied in any other particular though. You won't tell the chief will you? I was half afraid a clever man like him might guess, but as he doesn't seem to have done, if I talk VERY fast to Froggie I might be able to convince him into to pretending a younger brother; this is more fun than I've ever had in my life before and the most exciting thing I can expect to do as a viscount's sister is to get married. And even if I do, I shouldn't think I'd be very good at sitting on my hands at home like Marguerite or Yvonne or Suzanne; I'd rather be along and involved."

"You would marry someone from the league then?" he asked.

"Well it wouldn't be a good idea to marry someone who doesn't at least KNOW about it" said Peter "And I shouldn't like to marry anyone who would get upset about me wearing breeches and masquerading as a boy. Why were we talking about me getting married? Nobody's likely to like me in any case; my intellect would frighten the sportsmen – who I think would bore me to screaming moreover – and my exploits here would frighten an intellectual. And you can't marry without total honesty, can you?"

"The Blakeneys managed to" said Chauvelin dryly.

"And from what whispers I've heard made each other miserable until they did that un-English thing of actually talking to each other" said Peter tartly. "Do you want to look like a guillotine hag all day or were we going to change back into our normal attire?"

Chauvelin released the arm that he was still holding and stalked back into his bedroom after picking up his own clothes.

Well that explained certain feelings within him; now that he knew it was nature not madness he could easily ignore such. The girl would be wasted on any beef-witted sportsman; she was right about that at least. Though of course she WAS outrageous; preposterous! Shameless!

_**is anybody reading this? Only my traffic tool is not working so I can't see if anyone has visited my story… please review even if it's only to say 'yes I read this far'. Thanks!**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 An Unfortunate Visual Encounter**

The relationship was not quite the same after that; Chauvelin spoke less and was perhaps a trifle more civil and stilted in the way he addressed Peter.

"M. Chauvelin" said Peter firmly "Can we just forget that you have knowledge of my guilty secret? It is not as though I have been impersonating a brother whom you have previously known; I am myself, Peter, whom you have got to know as a person over the last week and a half. Is it that now you know I am a woman that you believe that suddenly half my brains have dribbled out of my head or something? I think that knowing does not alter the person that I am; this circumspection after we had created what I thought was a good rapport is somewhat hurtful."

"Perhaps I am concerned that your brother might be wishful to thrash me for any presumption to his sister" said Chauvelin tightly.

"Froggie's more likely to thrash me for scaring him witless" said Peter "He doesn't act in the uncontrolled and insolent way French aristocrats are likely to; if he thought a man was bothering me he'd likely knock him down. But on the whole he expects me to be able to take care of myself; like the roué I met in York – one of the reasons I retired to the library – who was being rather scary in his behaviour; I had gone back to the dining room because I had left my reticule there because reticules are ridiculous things and I forgot it. He followed me and made a bit of a nuisance of himself; only the cutlery had not been cleared so I stuck a fork in a place that I thought should discourage him in his ardour. It seemed to work" she added.

"You are remarkably resourceful!" said Chauvelin, laughing ruefully. "I am glad that you are a friend and protector of my Fleurette; such an incident would frighten her mightily."

"But then she has been reared gently where I have mostly run wild for the want of parental guidance" said Peter. "Or rather in the old man's case a total failure to realise that he might be expected to treat a daughter any differently to his son. I don't think I'd like it any other way; but then you never miss what you have never had. If I had grown up with a mama or even with a nurse and then a governess for whom I had any kind of respect I might have been a nice tractable girl who would have had the vapours over the idea of even riding, as Froggie put it, as though the devil was behind me to Dover to warn his friends that he had broken his leg. Poor Fleurette! She will be worrying about me I'm sure; but I scrawled a note to her too, that I was gone to help as Froggie was hurt; I expect she'll understand what I mean. I wrote to Froggie that I was going to take his place and that I should not let the family down; which is what he will care about though I doubt he'll be entirely sanguine. It'll be what I've done to his coats that will infuriate him most though, I wager" she grinned. "Come; are we friends again? Have you really started to dislike Peter because he's slightly different to what you thought? My mind is no different."

"I – it was a shock" said Chauvelin "To suddenly realise that you were a young, gently born female who would not normally be expected to undertake what you have so far undertaken without a er fit of the vapours; and I confess it embarrasses me that you have also undressed me on that first day."

"Lud is that all!" said Peter "I've nursed Froggie through his various accidents – and occasionally put him quietly to bed when he came home the worse for wear so his valet would not split on him to papa – so I do know that male anatomy is different and I'm only blushing because you are" she added defiantly. "Besides you were less a man than a lump of rather battered meat at the time."

"I think that almost makes it worse" said Chauvelin.

"Oh dear" said Peter. "Someone had to be nurse to you; I dare say if the chief had known I was a girl he would have done it himself but you know, I was quite impersonal about it all because though your life was important to me for Fleurette's sake it wasn't as though you had yet become a PERSON to me. I suppose that makes it worse too" she added gloomily.

She had such big blue eyes which asked for approval as Fleurette's asked for approval; and yet not like Fleurette; his daughter after all did not provoke unwonted and indeed unwanted feelings in him as Peter did! In her own way she was as sweet as his own Flower; despite her outrageous behaviour!

"We – we should carry on as normal" he said "I will doubtless get over the shock and forget that this has come between a rapport. Let us have a game of chess."

Peter beamed at him and ran to get the chessboard. She was improving enough that he had to concentrate now to beat her; and that meant he did not have to think of other intrusive thoughts.

-/-

The thoughts that chased through his head made Chauvelin withdraw somewhat into himself though he made an effort not to let Peter see; but he prowled up and down the room more, and stared unseeing out of the window.

"Only another week and a half; less" said Peter quietly "Be tranquil; soon you will be in England with Fleurette and though you may stay with us for a while you need see nothing of me if I irritate you."

"Irritate! No you do not irritate me" he said. "I – the inaction irks me; I am a worrier. You have absolute trust in your chief; I suppose I too have trust in his ability but I am not used to placing myself in the hands of any but myself; my own wits have always been my most trusted ally."

"I understand that" said Peter softly "Trusting in others to do it properly is hard. Especially as of course you have always been so self sufficient. Nevertheless I ask you to try to be tranquil."

How could he be tranquil? Her presence set him on fire! And she such a child she had no idea of it – which was just as well! – no idea how her daily ministrations of checking that his splint was in place made his pulse race and his loins burn! What could he do in her brother's house if a look betrayed him to the noble Viscount Frogham? He might not horsewhip him – if Peter herself read her brother aright – but that an arch enemy looked in such a fashion upon his sister, a man who had spent three weeks alone in rooms with that self same sister must prove too much even for the amiable Froggie! Even as he would wonder what might have passed between Fleurette and one of the League had she been in similar situation, to the extent that he was almost glad that it was the harmless and devoted Amédé that Fleurette had travelled with. And even so had she become attached to one of her romantic rescuers that was understandable; that an older man, an enemy should look on her as he knew he looked on Peter when she was unaware… such he would want to kill. Chauvelin's thoughts were confused; and that made him angry. And to prevent the hurt look in Peter's eyes if he snapped he lied smoothly that it was the inaction that irked him and tried not to speak when he was like to make sharp comment.

It was while he was gazing out into the street that Chauvelin looked down into a pair of eyes that he recognised; and gave a sharp intake of breath.

"What is it? Does your arm pain you?" Peter was at his side.

"Worse than that" said Chauvelin dryly "I have just seen and been seen by one of the worst possible people to have been passing by at this moment; the Baron de Batz."

"Well an Aristo isn't likely to betray you to the Directory, is he?" said Peter "He might try to kill you but for all he knows you're here on official business."

"Unlikely" said Chauvelin dryly "De Batz is a royalist – was an officer in the ci-devant king's guard – and has been behind every ill conceived plot to rescue members of the royal family there have been. He is a sworn foe too of the Scarlet Pimpernel whom he perceives as stealing his thunder through his successful extraction of the Dauphin where De Batz failed. He is everything your chief is not; vainglorious and uncaring of the fates of any of his followers, interested in himself only. How he survives I have no idea. Austrian gold mostly I think. However he IS likely to denounce me anonymously; because he DOES seem always to know everything that is going on. It might take him a few hours to make up his mind to do so however; and I wonder if we should flee."

"By going against the orders of the chief we may upset everything" said Peter firmly "Dress as maman; you might visit with Marie-France, chatting about this and that while I go to the address I was given to ask for specific aid. I AM glad you drilled me well in the streets of Paris; I am almost not scared."

"Peter… what disguise will you take? Not as a girl…. It is not safe…."

"I thought a disreputable urchin; I can pass as a child of ten or eleven. I am very short after all."

She was not even as tall as Chauvelin; a tiny fairy-like creature. He went to put on the disguise of the crone; and gasped when Peter emerged as a ragamuffin urchin, her curls greased down and her feet and most of her legs bare in the rags she wore.

She looked very young and Chauvelin felt his heart lurch, though he had long since believed that such an organ did not exist within his revolutionary chest! She pulled a face and gave a gamine grin.

"Will I do?" she asked.

"Very convincing" he said. She hurried to the door. "Pierrette!" he called, using the name she had picked for her alternate persona, the pet name that suited her so well, one of the fairy creatures of the Italian Comedia Del' Arte. She turned, a quizzical look on her face. "Be careful" he admonished.

"I shall Bibi" she said; and then she was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 Seeking Citizen Rateau**

The streets were alien to the young English girl; alien not merely in being of a foreign city but it the very strangeness of the culture imposed upon the very stones by the revolution, alien in not merely the foreign language but the studied coarseness of the way in which it was spoken! Peter was glad that she had badgered one of the grooms in her father's stables to teach her how to whistle when she was still a tiny girl; Miss Primm disapproved mightily of course and had pointed out that 'whistling women and cackling hens always come to some bad ends' which of course had made Peter practice the skill albeit covertly rather than grow out of wanting to do so and consequently forget!

Here it proved of immeasurable use; whistling was a skill of little boys. And dressed as a little boy, Peter skipped along, apparently aimlessly, whistling the Marseillaise, stopping to pick up a broken shovel handle to run along railings as she had seen urchins do in London; and like the London urchins running away when chased by the concierge, biting her thumb at him.

It was fun; but she must remember that she had too a serious purpose; the life of M. Chauvelin, entrusted to her care by the chief; her friend's father; and moreover one whom she would now call friend, for their days spent together were convivial and she was content. That her birthday was on the morrow was of no moment; she had forgotten it.

Peter had heard tales; and she knew that the streets of Paris were less frightening places than they had been a few short weeks, a couple of months before; the Terror was over, people were cautiously rejoicing; but the concentrated hatred, built up day upon day, month upon month over several years does not dissipate overnight; there was less palpable terror and yet there was still brooding, hidden fear; who knew whether the Terror might not yet return! Those in power were moderates; and Moderates had been overthrown before and replaced by the rapaciously bloodthirsty! Suspicion still lurked in faces on seeing strangers, neighbours still mistrusted neighbours. The Guillotine was still; but who knew when it might again demand its sacrifices of blood! The Cult of Reason had been installed as an alternative to Le Bon Dieu; but the nameless bloodthirsty goddess of the guillotine had attracted more worshippers and though it lay silent it had not been torn down nor the ground on which is stood ploughed with salt as had the equally relentless Tophet of Ba'al Hammon of Carthage; still stood the guillotine as an ongoing threat of perpetual sacrifice with the toothless hags like Erinyes as the priestesses of its pitiless maw.

A boy however was fairly harmless; he might have an apple core hurled at his head, a sabot thrust out to trip his headlong progress – and such thoughtless cruelty accounted the fun of grown men! – or names called at him; but that was the extent of the molestation of a mere child. Peter leaped the thrust out sabot, and thought, boy-like, to grab the Phrygian hat of her would-be tormentor and pull it right down to his nose; whereat the man was the butt of the laughter of his fellows rather the boy he sought to make game of; and good natured praises were thrown casually at Peter so well laced with curse words that it were as well she did not stop for her blushes might indeed have given her away! That they were good natured she must read in the tone; and she wondered much that this was good humour and was glad the group of men had not taken exception to her impudence to their fellow!

And such was the depravity of that tragic city that a boy seeming no more than ten years old was offered the services of a prematurely aged Hetaera who could have been no more than in her mid twenties yet was ravaged by her unfortunate profession, starvation, and the other stresses of life common to all who had lived under the terror. And the baby that suckled at her dried-up wizened breast looked as wrinkled and old as his unfortunate mother. Peter gasped in horror and escaped rapidly, followed by a cackle of mirthless laughter from the woman and the called invocation that she could make a man of the boy. And what Chauvelin had not mentioned as he drilled Peter in the names of the streets and where they ran was that this was a street where such women dwelled; doubtless, thought Peter dryly to herself because he had never been troubled by them because an official of the Assembly, tricolour about his waist and accompanied by soldiery or at least secretaries, would not be approached for fear of him. It was shocking; some of the women were no older than she; some maybe younger, all with the stamp of unwholesome knowledge on their faces, tired cynical faces that had learned to exploit one of the urges of men that never change, to grab a living of a kind in this cruel city.

-/-

At last Peter found her objective; a mean apartment block. She ran past the concierge, shouting 'Citizen Rateau!' as she went; no concierge was going to bother to get up to pursue a child for his identity. One boy was the same as any other, like the rats that fed on the debris in the mean streets.

She knocked on the door; which was opened by an elderly woman.

"Citizeness, is Citizen Rateau in?" she asked

The crone stared down.

"My son is in the tavern" she said "Have you a message for him?"

"Yes; or rather one for him to pass on" said Peter.

"Write your message then; and when you find my son, make some reference to the colour red as you pass him the note. Be discreet mind and let nobody see you do it!" said the old woman; and shut the door in Peter's face.

"Stap me!" said Peter, borrowing from her brother's vocabulary.

She had brought paper and a pencil in case she had to leave a note; and in the privacy of the dark landing scrawled the missive.

"Chief; our friend has been seen at the window by one who is no friend. Advise please" which was sufficiently vague to protect Citizen Rateau if he was picked up carrying it. She took a deep breath and went back down, heading for the nearest tavern that she had remarked casually as she entered the apartment.

-/-

The Coq d'Or was full at any hour; the thin sour wine it served an anaesthetic to all ills. The atmosphere was smoke-filled which scent vied with the stench of unwashed bodies, spilled wine and other, even less pleasant odours. To wrinkle her nose would mark Peter as an aristo; and manfully she swallowed her revulsion.

"Hey boy, are you here for a drink or to sell your arse?" demanded one patron. Peter had not the least idea what he meant – which was perhaps just as well! – and therefore did not give herself away by blushing.

"Neither citizen; I am sent with a message for Citizen Rateau from his mother" she said.

"Heh, Rateau! Your mother has an errand for you!" shouted the man.

The huge grimy creature in the corner gave a tearing, graveyard cough; and after wiping the spittle from his lips with a filthy sleeve lumbered over.

"What is it that maman wants?" he demanded.

"Please citizen, she asked me to remind you to get some red cabbage" said Peter "She gave me money for it in case you were short" and she passed over a few sous and the note with them.

"Heh, she'll be lucky" said Rateau, spitting on the floor. "You tell her I'll do my best."

"Yes citizen!" said Peter, taking that opportunity to dart off, heading in the direction of the apartment lest any should be watching. The asthmatic coal heaver had felt the paper and his eyes spoke of understanding; the mission was accomplished.

She had only to return through the maze of streets, hoping and praying that De Batz had not been quicker than she.

-/-

Peter made her way back to the apartment that had become temporarily home; she knew now more of what to expect; and now the urgency was slightly less could afford to feel the pity well up in her heart for the girls and women in that notorious street and to steel herself to neither show it nor to interfere. It remained in her mind however all the way home.

Chauvelin had followed her suggestion of dressing as the widow Lebrun; and looked up in relief as Peter came in.

"My child! You looked harrowed; are you all right?" he demanded.

"Mission accomplished" said Peter "Though how long it may be for help to arrive I cannot say; we cannot entirely rely on the speedy arrival of Sister Anne, if I may use the analogy. M. Chauvelin, did you know that there are girls who sell there bodies that are younger than I am?"

"I daresay" he said, indifferently "I suppose it is a way to live."

"And how would you feel, were you dead and Fleurette with no other way to eat, if it were she?" demanded Peter. He blanched.

"It – it is not the same" he said.

"It IS the same" said Peter "Is not the whole premise of what you believe that all men and women are equal? That a daughter born to the meanest sans-culotte is equal to the daughter of a duke? Wherein is the point of dragging down the milady to the level of the street walker if you cannot equally raise the street walker's daughter to the level of a duchess? Or at least to a level where self-respect is had by all, whilst removing the overweening arrogance from some? We must do something to help these poor girls once you are safely away and they have given up hunting."

"You feel very strongly!" he was startled.

"How can I not when I walk along a street where they display themselves with tired resignation, girls my age who look as though they have passed through a lifetime of misery?" said Peter. "I know; it is not the time to dwell on such and we must look to our own skins first if we would wish to help the unfortunates another time. I have not brought home any foundlings. Ah, THAT was why Froggy cleaned the chimney himself!" she added.

"I beg your pardon? Rather a leap in ideas Pierrette" said Chauvelin.

"Not as much as you might think; I had almost forgotten. We were staying in papa's house in London when I was about six, and the sweep came. He had a boy no older than me who had sore eyes from the soot and who was beaten regularly; and he fell down the chimney. I tried to adopt him and Papa was horrified."

"I imagine he would be" said Chauvelin dryly.

"Well now I am almost adult – only three more years – and independently wealthy thanks to Great Aunt Petronilla after whom I was named, I can afford to take in foundlings" said Peter. "The most miserable from England or France. However, I am going to go and dress as the flirtatious Citizeness Evenay because when the soldiery come, as they assuredly will, and with some official who knows you, I shall be claiming that indeed Citizen Chauvelin HAS been here but has gone, having been visiting me, his mistress. It will serve, yes?"

"Peter, the risks…. They may question you…. Better for them to find me surely?"

"Ah bah!" said Peter "How will that serve Fleurette? They will not make the mistake of incarcerating you another time; no, you will be shot whilst attempting to escape before you even get to any gaol. The responsibility is MINE; the chief left ME to protect your life; with mine if need be. That is the code of the League and I swore an oath to uphold that code. And you, a good revolutionary, who does not hold with venerating the cult of tender womanhood should applaud that an English woman is as bound by her word as her male counterpart. They can do no worse than charge me with wantonness; for which I may be flogged" she paled and grit her teeth "And… and I think that in these more moderate days they will not permit the soldiery to say' there is one who has been used so she is game for others to also use her' because…..because there is more rule of law and less the rule of the bully."

He gasped in horror even at the thought.

"Peter… if there is any such risk…. Sir Percy would not ask you to fulfil an oath to THAT extent" he said.

"But then I deceived him; concealed what I am from him; so the risk is mine alone. He cannot plan to cover what he does not know. It… if it happens I will not be the first nor the last to experience it; and I will survive it. If my friends stand by me?"

She raised her face in mute appeal.

He crushed his hands onto her shoulders.

"If you suffer that for me you would think I would not venerate you as the bravest woman in the world?" he demanded. "That you risk it! I – I do not want to let you risk it!"

"But the alternative is your life" said Peter "And remember, I think only of the worst that can happen; I may not even be taken away for questioning but be questioned here while they get after the fictional flight of my renegade lover. I beg you, M. Chauvelin, do not make it harder by eroding my resolve; and do not waste the risk the chief took to get you out in the first place. Instead play the merry game of deception with me, as Maman Lebrun, disapproving of my lovers but afraid of the power that this lover wields that we dared not turn him away when his gaze alighted on me. I go to change."

"I will support you" said Chauvelin. His first vision of her as an angel when he regained his senses for the first time in the room was nothing but the truth! And at that she was an angel with a will of iron and nerves of steel!

And her concerns for the lowest of the low, despised even by the most dyed-in-the wool revolutionary put all other revolutionaries to shame.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 Peter Arrested!**

Peter had time to take up her sewing before the thunderous knocking sounded on the door. She called a placid sounding 'Entrez!' to them; and looked enquiringly at the black-clad official with tricolour at his waist and the six soldiers with him. Not the ragged, lackadaisical soldiery who undertook routine domiciliary searches these; but hard-eyed veterans who were on a definite mission.

"Citizen? Is there a problem?" Peter permitted enough fear to colour her voice, such as any might feel at the appearance of a relatively exalted personage.

Chauvelin was fearful. The official was Desgas; once his own confidential secretary and trusted henchman. A man who feared Chauvelin once enough to be kept in check; but a man for whom sadism was a way of life! If Peter was taken into custody, what might not Desgas do! Almost Chauvelin considered stepping forward and revealing himself; almost. But if he did not play this game of Peter's devising he would let her down; and the Scarlet Pimpernel was surely aware by now that there was a problem; would be on hand to rescue her; maybe the tall guard….. no, he was not tall enough; and nor was he broad enough across the shoulders. And his left forearm was bare and had no 'M' brand on it that would betray him as Sir Percy, who had matched on his own arm the brand Chauvelin had caused to have placed on Rateau in his desperate attempts to tell the two apart. A forlorn hope.

Desgas spoke.

"Citizeness, we have received information that Citizen Chauvelin has been seen here."

Peter stared out of round, incredulous blue eyes.

"Why but yes, Citizen; that is correct!" she said.

Desgas, expecting a denial and preparing a speech demanding that she not lie to him did an almost visible double take.

"What – you mean you admit it?" he demanded belligerently, hardly able to believe his ears.

Peter thought hard about having had to undress Chauvelin to bring a flush to her face.

"I am not an important person, citizen; he is so very important! When he intimated that he wished me to be his mistress, how could I deny him? Besides he promised advancement for my husband" she added.

"You are his MISTRESS?" Desgas could hardly believe it. Peter stared at hands clasped in her lap.

"He was very persuasive" she said. "And such an ATHLETIC man"

Chauvelin worked on not choking and turned it into a sob, dabbing his eyes with a kerchief.

"My daughter may flirt citizen but she is not truly wanton" he whined "What are poor folk to do before so celebrated a man? What is it to the state the humble mistresses her servants take?"

Desgas threw a look of disgust at the whining and wretched old woman and then promptly ignored her. Despite the danger Chauvelin hid a grin; the disguise was good! And the boldness in speaking up instead of trying to remain in the background had paid off!

"Citizen Chauvelin is a traitor" said Desgas coldly.

Peter gave a little scream and raised her hands to her face.

"I have lain with a traitor? Citizen, I beg you, believe me, I did not know; he did not tell me, he said only that he was away on a mission abroad, that he would not see me for a long time…. Oh the cochon!" and she sobbed into her pinafore "What if I bear the child of a traitor? Alas, alas, for my poor Jean, who will not now have a frigate of his own!"

"Phaugh!" said Desgas "Search this apartment, men; we shall see whether or not the bird has indeed flown! Sergeant, alert all the guards to double their vigilance at the gates and have all routes to the coast alerted by Chappe-telegraph in case he has already left Paris."

Chauvelin sobbed noisy tears into his own apron. It was a good way of obscuring his face – just in case Desgas looked too closely. The telegraph or semaphore as the English called it was their most dangerous enemy once they were on the road; able to send messages quickly by the position of its two arms moved by ropes.

Desgas casually backhanded him.

"There, let me give you something to cry about, woman, who are no better than a madam to pimp your daughter!" he said. Chauvelin gave an old woman's cry of pain.

"MAMAN!" cried Peter, running to kneel by him. Chauvelin put his arms around her and whispered.

"He likes to cause pain; if they take you, cry before you are hurt, forget your pride; let him be satisfied that he is hurting you."

"I will" promised Peter. Chauvelin stifled the sigh of relief; English stubborn pride could get her hurt the more if Desgas were in one of those moods. He had the self control to hold it in check – mostly; but a frightened and pretty girl….. it had been one of the things Chauvelin had most deplored about Desgas, that he enjoyed torture. If one applied cruelty it should be done without emotion, efficiently. Though in a way, it was well; Peter could play Desgas like a fish if she were forewarned. An efficient and emotionless torturer was an infinitely more frightening proposition!

The two supposed women clung together as well they might be expected to do were they who they claimed to be, if such a search were carried out; and Chauvelin was remarkably content to have Peter's young vibrant body close to his. It went beyond the desire he so strictly controlled; the pleasure of her trusting him and just being close was a delight that meant that any fears were quite irrelevant! She, sweet innocent, for all her knowing airs, had no idea of the depths of his feelings; and he planned to keep it that way if he could. The soldiery tramped through the apartment, ignoring them; used to ignoring terrified women as they sought out traitorous men folk or hidden fugitives. They emptied drawers and cupboards, poked bayonets under the beds and into the mattresses – which as Peter muttered were fortunately not feather beds or the mess would be legion – and helped themselves to the tiny store of coffee in the kitchen.

"And did Citizen Chauvelin give you the coffee?" asked Desgas, who missed very little "I will take charge of that as evidence, citizen" he added to the soldier who had filched it. The man handed it over with a sullen look. It was natural enough for superiors to commandeer the best loot but this fils d'une putaine had eyes in the back of his head!

"Citizen Chauvelin likes – liked – me to have coffee for him citizen" said Peter. "It is a tastier coffee than one might normally purchase."

Desgas gave a short, brutal laugh.

"Oh yes, very finicky in his ways, Citizen Chauvelin; quite the aristo in many ways. Clean underlinen daily too I wager; his shirt always newly laundered, his fingernails manicured, not a hair out of place. Well you are clean, woman; I suppose he insists that you bathe before he lies with you?"

Peter, who had forgotten to re-begrime herself, having washed off the excess grime she had worn to be an urchin, heaved a hidden sigh of relief that her oversight might be explained.

"He is – was – very particular" she said "He always liked me to bath all over, not just wash my hands; and he himself liked a bath ready for before he dressed and left me" she guessed at the habits of a man of refinement and fastidious nature.

This tickled the sense of humour of Desgas who laughed again. He had no difficulty in believing such habits.

"From the Aristos he came and like them is doubtless fleeing to England" he said "Unless we catch him first when we shall see how blue his finicky blood runs on the guillotine!"

The soldiery laughed dutifully at his cruel joke.

"Well he has been gone more than two hours I think" said Peter sulkily "And now I come to think of it he left hurriedly without his usual cup of coffee; he had been looking out of the window. I suppose he knew he was seen and fled."

"Well he won't get far" boasted Desgas "There are twenty-seven telegraph stations between Paris and Calais, and the best time for a message to go from Paris to Calais is three minutes!"

"Truly? Such an amazing invention!" said Peter. "Oh citizen, need my husband know? It is for his sake of course but…"

"Oh of COURSE" sneered Desgas "You will tell me next that Citizen Chauvelin never paid for your services!"

"Indeed citizen, I have never received a sous in money from Citizen Chauvelin!" cried Peter indignantly – and as it happened, truthfully – "Though he has done favours for Jean, and brought me little gifts; but such things do not count, do they?"

"Well we shall see about that" sneered Desgas "I'm taking you in for questioning; we shall soon find out if you are truly a wanton, in need of correction!"

"She is a misguided girl, used and abused by a traitor who used his former position to betray her!" sobbed Chauvelin into his pinafore.

"That remains to be seen" said Desgas grandly "Bring her along!" he snapped his fingers and indicated to one of the soldiers to seize Peter by the arm.

Peter cried and sobbed; and Chauvelin ground his teeth to see how her pretended terror aroused his one time underling. Fighting with so many soldiers there was futile however; he must needs place all trust in the capable hands of his arch enemy, Sir Percy Blakeney!


	11. Chapter 11

_**A very short one. It's the way it fitted **_

**Chapter 11 Sir Percy has a Shock**

Peter did not entirely have to feign fear as she was dragged away to answer for her supposed wantonness; but she had every faith in her ability to endure anything that had to be endured, and in the Chief to rescue her from anything entirely too untoward.

It was Chauvelin left behind in a room suddenly too quiet who knew – how well he knew! – what horrors might await her, those things that to Peter were a vague fear formulated without understanding, without knowledge! With a moan he dropped into the chair and buried his face in his hands.

-/-

He was still sitting there when the light faded; and the peculiar knock of the League sounded on the door.

With a bound he was out of the chair, at the door, wrenching it open; and Percy, ready to make a flippant comment at the sight of his old adversary dressed as an old woman, bit back that self same comment at the look in Chauvelin's eyes; and the first words that rose to his lips.

"Thank God you are come" said Chauvelin "They have taken her; you must rescue her, it is Desgas who came to search and he is a very animal as you know! I fear for her safety; but I obey her orders that are your orders; God, how hard it has been to stay still and wait for you!"

"Steady on old man" Percy took Chauvelin lightly by the arm and guided him back to a chair. "Who is 'she'? where is young Peter? Why did he send me the message? I know nothing, remember."

Chauvelin gave a laugh that verged on the hysterical.

"Of course you know nothing! Stupid of me; I am half out of my mind; yes and to you and to only you I will admit it. You already know my weaknesses. 'She' is Peter; an angel with more bravery than nine out of ten of the men of England; she's not Froggie's brother, she's his sister, Fleurette's friend and an English lioness; clever and beautiful and brave and…"

"You're babbling rather, old man" said Percy, not entirely unkindly as he assimilated the fact that Peter was a girl and that Armand Chauvelin, the man with a heart of ice, appeared to have fallen headlong in love with her. A ridiculous state of affairs; but the facts were more important than anything else right now.

"I apologise. Let me report" said Chauvelin, drawing himself together with a shuddering sigh. "I was looking out of the window; I wanted a different view to my comfortable gaol. I saw De Batz; and he saw me. Peter insisted that we must not leave, that it might upset any plans you had; and went to leave message for you to apprise you that there was a problem. We assumed the guise of the widow Lebrun and her daughter; and when the raid came, as we knew it must, rather than deny that I had been seen, Peter came up with the bold plan of declaring that of course Citizen Chauvelin had been here because she was his mistress. It was a magnificent piece of bluff. And with anyone but Desgas – who was sent of course because he knows me – I swear she would have been given a caution over wantonness and we should have been left alone when the search satisfied them that there was nobody else there. He hardly gave me a second look as a whining old woman declaring that her daughter was a good girl manipulated by a conniving scheming man but to Desgas, the idea of a young girl in terror, and better in pain and terror, is something he finds hard to resist. Should I have fought? We would both have died. Peter said to place all trust in you and to do as she said because you would sort it out; she would not let me give myself up. I hardly know what to do; I am so used to acting for myself, to lie passive irks."

"You did right" said Percy "Aye; well I know how hard it is for a strong man to let others fight his battles for him, to wait; and nobody has ever doubted your courage. A girl, gadzooks! Froggie will be ready to kill me!"

Chauvelin managed a half laugh.

"Peter said he was more likely to whip her for spoiling the set of his coats than for worrying him" he said.

"More than likely" said Percy. "You must continue to wait; I will find out exactly where they have taken her, what is happening; and I will act accordingly. Retain that disguise for the nonce; if I need to move you both swiftly I shall see to other disguises as seems fit at the time. I'll not let any harm come to the sister of one of my best friends; rest assured" and he was gone.

Chauvelin was comforted; what the Scarlet Pimpernel said he would accomplish, he would accomplish.

And after all, he comforted himself, Sir Percy had not a Chauvelin to contend with; it was the very nearly perfect match of their wits that had made them such deadly enemies in the first place.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 Peter Interrogated**

"Tell me about your _affaire_ with Chauvelin then" Desgas' face leered into Peter's. She had stood for hours already while he questioned her about when Chauvelin had come, how long he had stayed; she had been vague, saying only that it was after she had broken her fast and that he had stayed about the usual time; that it was an hour or two maybe. He had wanted to know how long she had been Citizen Chauvelin's mistress; she had answered that it was not quite the year round. And now the wretched man wanted details of what she might only vaguely imagine. Peter was no fool; she knew how horses procreated and might assume that similar acts took place in the bedroom save that there had to be more to it than that for it to be something that would make people want to take lovers, male or female.

"What's to tell, citizen?" she shrugged.

He slapped her; and she almost fell. She remembered to cry out and put her hand to her bruised face. It was less unpleasant than the hot feel of his hand on her breast as he questioned her earlier.

"Prove to me that you have had an _affaire_ with Citizen Chauvelin" he said.

"Oh! You are trying to trap me into a charge of wantonness!" cried Peter "I have had no such thing; he has never lain with me at all, he came only for the company, because I look like his dead wife!"

Another slap; this time she did fall. He poked her hard with the toe of his boot.

"Get up; you are lying. I could care less if you slept with half the Directory, Robespierre and any number of Aristos; I need proof that it was he who was seen, that it is no mistake. I want to know what distinguishing marks he may have."

Peter flushed.

"You mean the strawberry mark on his right hip?" she whispered.

Desgas gave a sigh of satisfaction.

"Precisely so my dear" he said. "It was he indeed. For the record, what shape is it?"

Peter considered.

"A bird having a fit" she said.

"Draw it" said Desgas.

Peter swallowed and drew as she remembered; any inaccuracy of line might be put down to a barely literate girl's lack of facility with the pencil. Desgas nodded.

"On his notes of identification it is described as a lopsided fleur de lis; I like better your description of a bird having a fit" he said. "Tell me, does he like to hurt you to gain his pleasure?" his face was lascivious.

Peter looked confused.

"No citizen" she said "why would he want to do that?"

"No? Ah well I wondered if our controlled and so civilised Chauvelin had…. Hidden vices. Ah but of course; he DOES have hidden vices" he chuckled nastily "He told you that you look like his dead wife, you said?"

"Yes citizen; when he first….." she let her voice tail off.

Desgas nodded, sneering.

"More that you are like his living daughter to look at" he said "Everyone knows how he kept her secluded in Lou Mas, where nobody would know that he visited her secretly to indulge his secret passion; to find one who looked like her when he was in Paris must have delighted him. And now she has gone to England, fled with her aristo-loving lover; and her father trying to connive to keep her where he can use her; but he betrayed himself. Yes indeed; he betrayed himself."

Peter did not have to feign horror.

"You suggest…. But would not that be INCEST?" she said.

"I believe that was what I said" chuckled Desgas nastily "Why else would he keep her in seclusion but as a love nest?"

Why else indeed! Peter thought scorn on the man who was so coarse, so venal, that such was the only explanation that arose; a man without the capacity to love a gentle daughter of a loving wife, who could not understand that Bibi wanted only to protect his little girl. She did not believe for one instant that Armand Chauvelin was so base; she had looked into his eyes when he spoke of Fleurette and his looks, his words were those only of a concerned father.

"But I am NOT his daughter; I have committed no crime, citizen, please let me go" she said. She was swaying with tiredness.

"Oh I think I probably shall; I'll not let you go to the public executioner for a flogging; but I believe I may give you such myself, to teach you to be more careful in your actions in future."

The revolting man was actually clutching at himself.

Peter sobbed artistically.

"Secure her" said Desgas to the guard.

This was evidently not an uncommon order; the guard laid down his musket and expertly took Peter by the wrists and tied her to a pole set up in the corner. There were reddish stains on the floor around it.

Peter clenched her teeth; at least this was to be a relatively private humiliation.

And then the door opened.

"Keeping all the sweets to yourself, Desgas?" said fruity voice.

"Never mind THAT Barras" snapped another, thinner voice "You have news of the whereabouts of Chauvelin, Desgas; which takes precedence over your little entertainments."

"Yes; untie her" said another voice.

Desgas was shocked; he HAD planned to keep, in Barras' idiom, all the sweets to himself and merely report to the citizen-representatives. What he could not know was that Sir Percy, in the guise of an officer under Desgas, had made a report of the taking of the girl; certain that they would ultimately release her in the hopes that Chauvelin might return to her apartment as a supposed safe haven. If not, then time would be to make other plans.

"I just wanted to verify that all she told me about Chauvelin was true" Desgas lied smoothly.

"Indeed. Well she can tell us" said the third voice.

Peter was almost shaking when she was untied; her legs did not belong to her.

And she was face to face with all the notables of the directory; she recognised them from cartoons by Gillray. Paul Barras, the voluptuary; Jean Lambert Tallien; Joseph Fouché and Antoine-Christophe Merlin. It had been Tallien who had ordered her released; he spoke kindly.

"What is your role in this citizeness?"

"Why citizen, I have told the citizen here over and over!" said Peter, trying to sound flustered.

"We had an anonymous tip that Chauvelin had been seen at a certain apartment" said Desgas. "I went with men as you directed me; and this woman and her mother were the only occupants. She is married; her husband commands a frigate."

"No citizen, it was that Citizen Chauvelin promised me that he SHOULD command a frigate if I were his mistress!" corrected Peter. This might after all be a test of her story. "He currently is _Lieutenant de vaisseau_ of a sloop only."

"Whichever" Desgas made an impatient gesture. "It makes no difference."

"But yes, it makes a very great deal of difference!" said Peter "In a Frigate one might stand upright without banging the head on the ceiling – or whatever sailors call it – and the pay is better and there is more chance for action and advancement! It makes every difference in the world citizen!"

Tallien laughed.

"So you became Chauvelin's mistress for the advancement of your husband? And your own advancement?"

Peter managed to look uncomfortable.

"There were gifts…. No payments however" she added hastily "It was all very informal. He liked too to talk to me; well at me, really if I am honest, citizen. I did not mind; it made very little sense I fear" she said.

"Of what did he talk?" asked Tallien, intently. Peter shrugged.

"A man he called the Scarlet Pimpernel; the English spy one hears about sometimes. He raged about him; oh how he raged! Sometimes I was almost frightened but he was never rough with me, never. And he spoke of his dead wife, who was called Fleur and his daughter Fleurette; I do not believe he had improper relations with her, whatever the citizen there thinks" she added. Not to mention Desgas' suggestions would be suspicious; if she might throw some doubt on his idea it would not smirch the character of Chauvelin perhaps. Desgas would advance the theory at some point in any case.

"Oh Desgas always believes the worst of everyone" said Tallien "So he was in the habit of visiting you?"

"When he was in Paris, yes" said Peter "I was surprised when he came; my husband is due on leave, but Armand – it is what he liked me to call him – said that he had arranged for him to be delayed. If he was lying about that, my husband may be home now, wondering what has happened and Maman afraid to tell him!" she let her eyes fill with tears. She was so tired that it was not hard. "He said that he had to go abroad – said it was a mission. What was I to do but believe him? I did not know until the citizen told me that he was a traitor! What if I carry a traitor's child? I want to go home!"

Tallien patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

"You will bring up any child you carry as a good citizen of course" he said "But you should also report to us if Chauvelin ever contacts you again. Is he likely to know that you are with child?"

"I have said nothing to him" said Peter "And moreover I am not certain of my dates; I had leave to travel to Calais to see Jean – my husband – at much the same time, at the end of April. I pray you, let me sit down; I feel most ill." She put her hand to her belly.

"The mother of a patriot should not be ill treated" said Tallien, lifting a chair over for her. "Desgas, if you had killed an unborn son of the Republic with your entertainments you would have answered for it."

Desgas looked sick.

Peter was not displeased; she had invented the spurious pregnancy purely to get him into trouble in any case.

"All very well but if she carries the brat of Chauvelin what trouble might that cause?" grumbled Merlin.

"Bait, my friend" said Fouché "Fine bait; which is why the citizeness is going to keep in touch with us. She has, after all, a fond husband whose welfare and advancement concern her; so she knows what is good for her. Don't you citizeness?"

Peter nodded.

"You want me to denounce Citizen Chauvelin if he communicates with me; I shall certainly do so" she said. "Will you send people after him to the Austrian Netherlands?"

"He said he was going to the Netherlands? Girl you said that he told you he had a mission abroad!" Tallien was angry "What are you witholding?"

"Nothing citizen!" cried Peter "Only he said that he preferred tulips to pimpernels; and that Austrian gold spent better than English gold!"

They all exchanged looks.

"De Batz!" said Fouché with loathing "Citizeness, in recalling that remark you have been very helpful; and I am sure you will continue to be an excellent agent. Tallien, will you drive her to her apartment?"

"Willingly" said Tallien.

"I am happy to do it" said Barras.

"Oh I'm sure you have enough on your plate with the fair creole" said Tallien "I am a married man; and a more fit escort for the citizeness."

And then she was being escorted out of the building, into a carriage; driven back to the apartment without having to endure the whipping Desgas had so ached to give her; and was handed out by Citizen Tallien with as much courtesy as if they were of the ci-devant aristocracy.

"A world of warning, Citizeness" said Tallien "Citizen Barras is a connoisseur of pretty girls. If I were you I should avoid becoming involved with him as a replacement for Citizen Chauvelin."

"Oh no sir – citizen!" Peter gasped "I will never be unfaithful to my husband again; it carries too many troubles!"

"There's a good girl; remember that and you will be quite all right" said Tallien; and banged on the coach to be driven off.

Peter heaved a sigh of relief; then almost screamed as a big, ungainly form detached itself from the shadows.

"C-Citizen Rateau" said Peter. "You startled me."

There was a merry laugh; and then the world span and became black.

_in case it passed anyone by, 'the fair creole' who was Barras' mistress later married a certain Napoleon Bonaparte and became known as Josephine_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 Peter Returns**

Peter came to hearing a cry from Chauvelin as Sir Percy carried her into the apartment.

"Oh nothing amiss I believe" said Percy cheerfully "She was driven home by no less than Tallien and then when I revealed my true self she passed out; I don't usually have damsels throwing themselves at my feet quite like that so I may guess that it was one shock too many."

Peter sat up.

"What a demmed silly thing to do to faint" she said in self disgust. "I'm rather fatigued I fear."

"They made you stand ma mie?" asked Chauvelin half reaching out a hand to her. She met his eyes, taken by surprise by the endearment wrung involuntarily from him; and then she knew; and the truth of her own growing feelings burst upon her consciousness, her realisation of love for him forming on her face as she gazed at him; and Chauvelin watched in wondering joy as her awareness of him dawned, and her soft lips parted in wonder; and she mouthed his name, 'Armand' too shy to say it out loud. He wanted to shout with joy; but he forced himself to be passive before Sir Percy at least. "It is a favourite interrogation technique to make the prisoner stand throughout lengthy interrogation" he said.

She nodded.

"I got a chair when I told them I was potentially carrying your child" she said; and her eyes twinkled. Chauvelin spluttered, and Sir Percy raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" he said. His tone was dangerous.

"I claimed that it might be my husband's as I had leave to visit him at the end of April or it might be a traitor's brat. They think to use such as bait" she added cheerfully, having missed the undercurrents "It was the best way I could think of to get Desgas into trouble too; he had planned to whip me for his own entertainment. He conducted the main interrogation. The filthy little beast believes that you kept Fleurette quietly at Lou Mas for an incestuous relationship" she almost spat that out in anger.

"It would not be the first time men have behaved thus" said Chauvelin dryly, forcing back his own anger "At least Fleurette is safe and not able to be tortured into agreeing to go along with that lie. Desgas gets more disgusting with age. Did the beast lay hands on you?"

"Only superficially" said Peter, shuddering in horror at the memory. "I preferred the slaps."

"The bruises will mark you for several days; hard to disguise" said Sir Percy "Which might be a trouble. How suspect do you believe you are?"

She shrugged.

"Since I sent them haring off to the Austrian Netherlands in search of their quarry I believe I am a spy for them" she said. "I sort of gave them De Batz as well."

"You appear to have been busy" said Sir Percy grimly "You had better tell me all in case you have upset my plans in any way."

"I hope I have not; but not knowing what they were I had to give them something and I thought – perhaps wrongly – that if De Batz was tied up avoiding the authorities he was less likely to be making trouble for us" she said.

"Odd's fish, something in that" admitted Percy. "And it IS your first – and probably last – time doing this sort of thing so on the whole you've done rather well. Tell me as much as you can remember of the interrogation."

Peter nodded and complied, answering questions where they were posed by his swift, incisive voice.

"That's all" she said "Save that Tallien warned me that Barras was a lascivious swine – not that he put it that bluntly – which any woman could guess by looking at him."

"Though it's a shame you are a girl; egad, if you were a boy you'd have the potential to be a very fine lieutenant" said Percy.

Peter stiffened.

"I made a vow to the League" she said "Are you casting me out and breaking your side of that as the chief who accepted me?"

Percy stared.

"My dear child, you surely see that I can't put the sister of one of my friends in danger!" he said.

"Maybe not; but you can put sworn members of the League in danger because we accept it" said Peter "There is so much work to be done here; so many miserable people, girls younger than me forced to sell their bodies; surely the League needs the compassion of women to help such unfortunates?"

"She is filled with revolutionary zeal to help the masses as well as the aristos" said Chauvelin "And it is not I who put it there; she has her own ideas."

Percy scratched the back of his head perplexed.

"I confess, egad, to be entirely at a loss as to how to deal with you er, Miss Holte" he said. "I would never have left you alone in the company of a man for all this time had I known; obviously. Certainly not one who was capable of penetrating your disguise. Indeed I wonder if I ought not to take you away forthwith."

"M. Chauvelin has been everything that is proper" said Peter "More so actually since he did penetrate my disguise because he goes out of his way to find less direct ways to speak of such subjects as might be considered indelicate."

"Indeed" said Percy.

"Peter has a worldly-wise air that certain remarks prove to be largely assumed" said Chauvelin "I have refused to enlighten her more than superficially on the meanings of some colloquialisms" he blenched recalling some of the words they had heard the first soldiers use that Peter had later asked for translations on.

"Whichever being so" said Peter "I am doing the job you asked of me; I can continue to do the task, chief; you have nobody else here to do it. I do not see the problem; we have separate rooms. It's not like he's shocking me by having DANCING girls or anything up here of an evening."

Percy went into whoops of laughter over that one.

"Oh I am so sorry; the vision of my austere friend M. Chambertin with dancing girls….. Petronilla you have a decidedly off colour imagination!"

"Froggie says it's lurid" said Peter cheerfully "And I say, I DO prefer being Peter you know; it suits better."

He sighed.

"Well I must leave you here for the time being; as you say, I have nobody else to hand. On the understanding that all remains quite proper; that there will be nothing with which Froggie can reproach me, nor Fleurette complain of her friend's discomfort."

"Oh quite" said Chauvelin with almost a snap.

Percy nodded; and then he was on his way.

-/-

And Peter threw herself into Chauvelin's arms.

"You heard what he said" said he "He extracted a promise from me to be all that is proper."

"Well I never made one" said Peter "Armand! Oh I am so glad to be back with you! And you are glad too? It was not that I mistook…."

"DAMN Sir Percy" said Armand Chauvelin and kissed her, hard. Peter thrust herself closer, clinging to him and kissing him back; and when he raised his mouth from hers she was trembling and giving little cries of pleasure.

"You little innocent" said Chauvelin "Ma mie, my Pierrette!"

"Armand… what happens next?" she was still clinging to him.

"What happens next is that we obey the edict of the good Sir Percy; and when we get to England I shall apply – probably fruitlessly – to your brother for your hand in marriage" he replied.

"Oh Froggie will come round to do what I want" said Peter snuggling at him. "He always does; it's too uncomfortable living with a sister who knows how to make his life uncomfortable until he does. You wouldn't believe how creatively difficult I can be."

"Funnily enough my love, I believe I can" said Armand dryly. "Is – do you truly want this?"

"Can you doubt it?" said Peter. "Why, I have an intellectual who is also brave, with a sense of humour; what more do I need to look for?"

"You are of an age with my daughter."

"Well she shall rear her brats as friends with their uncles and aunts then" said Peter, blushing furiously.

He kissed her again.

"Go and sleep, little one" he said "And we shall be patient. If you want me, I will wait for as long as it takes."

"I might not though if Froggie decides to be tiresome" said Peter "We can always elope if nothing else; between us I can scarcely see Froggie's brains being much of a match. You might wish me happy birthday though; it's after midnight."

"I wish you all the happy birthdays in the world my dear" he said.

'_ma mie' is archaic; went out of use after 18__th__ Century, a contraction of m'amie , used as an endearment 'my sweet love' but then Chauvelin is a bit archaic_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 Achknowledgements**

Peter awoke wondering why the day seemed golden; recalled that it was her birthday and dismissed that as a reason; and remembered all in one go that Armand loved her! She rose and dressed, putting on the female garb as dressing as a boy seemed superfluous; but instead of letting her hair draggle as Citzeness Evenay was wont to do she dressed it carefully, the curls combed forward at the front and the long back hair that she wore in a queue to be a youth caught up with a few pins – for she carried such commodities as hair pins in her sewing basket – into the Psyche knot that was newly fashionable.

Chauvelin caught his breath as she tripped lightly into the main room.

"Are you trying to get me murdered by Blakeney?" he demanded "You go out of the way to tease!"

"Oh!" said Peter "It was not my intention; I just wanted to look nice for you so that you had some better idea of what my usual appearance may be; I should not like you to feel that you had bought a pig in a poke so to speak."

He laughed.

"You are beautiful, Pierrette, whether you are a grimy urchin or dressed in the silks that you no doubt wear in your usual life" he said.

"Fortunately for day wear lawns and muslins are in fashion; infinitely easier to mend and launder I assure you!" said Peter "And they don't tear so easily when one becomes intricately entangled with a briar for stopping to eat blackberries."

"Only a Gamine like you would manage to become intricately entangled with a briar for the stopping to eat blackberries however I fancy" said Chauvelin.

"That is true" admitted Peter "And if that displeases you I fear it is a fault I would not wish to alter."

"It is part of your charm, ma mie" he said. "I am as sure as I am that you can play the part of an insouciant English youth that you can also play the lady if you feel it necessary."

"Oh yes; but you are right, it is always like playing a part" said Peter "Though one has to almost believe oneself into the part to act it best; I must say it was fun being a street urchin if a little scary. If the chief gets all stuffy and will not let us carry on in the League shall we branch out alone to rescue children that need it?"

"That is rather premature; talk of 'us'" said Chauvelin "For one thing I hardly suppose he would invite ME to join it; and for another I am not sure if I would accept even if he did. Too much has passed between us; there would be no trust, even if HE decided to trust me, I doubt many of his followers would. And I understand the whole league is based on the principle of trust. Moreover, the League stands for what morally I oppose; taking away the oppressors of the people from just punishment."

"But it doesn't; at least, only in a few cases where the unpleasant relatives are brought too because when there are obvious innocents, how can the League sit in judgement on those they love?" said Peter "The Terror did not permit innocents to exist; thousands died who should not have done. The premise for the suspect law was flawed in that it gave power to the debtor who might declare those to whom he owed money suspect; and to the rival, who might get rid of another who courted his sweetheart; and to the jealous who hoped to gain from the demise of another by gaining a better apartment say. And if once people were denounced, how much evidence was needed for them to be guilty? Precious little. Fleurette has spoken of the trial you were forced to conduct against her; only by attacking her accuser were you able to gain enough public opinion to hope to gain her release. Is that fair? I think not. And nor do you – not really. What of her friends in the prison, Claire de Châtelard, Mme de Mornas, Eugénie Blanc? Had they REALLY committed any crime – bar the Countess de Mornas for her accident of birth?"

He passed a weary hand over his face.

"Claire de Châtelard was a notorious woman; I hated to see my Fleurette in close company with her!" he cried.

"And yet in the end they were just two women comforting each other were they not – is that not an egalitarian ideal?" said Peter gently. "It was Robespierre's hatred of all the world that demanded blood; and those who dared stand singly against him perished and none dared combine lest any they try to recruit should save his own skin by denouncing any others that drove the madness; to drum up custom for the guillotine. Was he such a magnetic personality then, my love, that he could make you believe that the bloodshed was right and proper?"

"I suppose the answer to that is 'yes'" said Armand. "He was a very charismatic man; he spoke and all he said seemed reasonable and just. I know when he started to hate the Bourbons though."

"Tell me?"

"When he was at school he was the prize scholar; and he was chosen out of five hundred pupils to make a speech to the king and queen when they visited. It was raining; the pupils waited hours in the rain; and the king and queen did not once step out of their carriage."

"Shameful!" cried Peter "How can a country that gives us the term 'noblesse oblige' manage to have nobles who show so little of their obligations? It is scarcely wonderful that Robespierre resented; or that the whole county hated, for the famines were hardly noticed by the nobles. But how did he go from resenting those who had abused their power to hating anyone and everyone?"

Chauvelin shrugged.

"I cannot say" he said "Hatred is a very comforting emotion to bury yourself in; it has no responsibilities as love has, can be easily fed and nurtured and has no complexities to it to worry the thought. It is so easy to immerse oneself in it when it is all that there is. I started with ideals; ideals that were trampled on. I hated those who trampled on them, the mob who were enthusiastic followers of all who would trample on them, crushing all creativity under their sabots; I came to say 'be damned to them all so long as France survives' I suppose. Did I have any personal enmity to the aristos that the League rescued? I have to say that I held most of them in supreme indifference, whilst hating all that they stood for, the automatic snobbery that despised my Fleur for her birth, who would not accept that the was three times as much a lady as many of those born to it; a country doctor's daughter; petit bourgeois. And does not now Sir Percy look upon my suit of you with the same arrogant hauteur? His face says plainly, this will not do, we cannot have a jumped-up spy linked in name to the lovely scion of a noble house. He will take me to Fleurette because this he has sworn; and he never breaks his word. And then he will do everything in his power, my love, to separate us. You wait and see."

"He was rather stuffy about it" said Peter "I think for him it's more personal enmity than actual arrogance and class prejudice; because you have caused him a lot of grief I believe. And I fancy he fears that you are using me."

"You know I am not don't you?" he cried.

"Of course I do" said Peter "Besides, you know me well enough by now to be aware that if you had tried to use me, I should probably shoot you."

He laughed shakily.

"From most English girls that would be but an idle threat" he said. "Ah Pierrette!" he knelt before her and buried his face against her; and she wrapped her arms about him, gently stroking his soft brown hair with its grey streaks, wishing as Fleurette had done that the pressures he was under had not so hurt him as to give him those streaks of grey. On the whole he was looking younger than when Sir Percy had first carried him in; and the concept that living in hiding was more relaxing than his previous life – though one had to take a term of imprisonment into account – brought home the strain of living under the Terror, for even those who were virtually invulnerable. Long she held him; and was content; and when her legs tired she knelt beside him, entwined in his arms until they heard Marie-Claire on the stairs with their midday meal and tore themselves apart to look nonchalant when the good woman came in with food.

"I am scarce in a mood to eat" said Chauvelin when that worthy had withdrawn.

"You should be" said Peter severely "You need your strength; a feast of the spirit in acknowledging our love is all very well but it does not prepare us physically for any of the trials that may yet be ahead."

"Ah, ma mie, but how practical you are!" cried Chauvelin delighted.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Another rather short one; sorry**_

**Chapter 15 Sir Percy spills the beans**

Sir Percy considered long; and decided to communicate to the others of his band that Peter was in fact Petronilla.

"Odd's teeth, Percy, I'd never have guessed!" cried Lord Tony.

"Well now you mention it old fellow" said Sir Thomas Galveston "I do recall Froggie mentioning that he had a younger sister with an odd kick to her gallop and hoping that there would be some fellow foolish enough to marry her before she drove him distracted wanting to know how steam engines pump water out of mines and such rubbish as that, not to mention wanting to take in foundlings all the time."

"She is an intelligent and very compassionate girl" said Percy "She was talking of rescuing the younger strumpets she saw when she brought message to Rateau."

"Sink me, she must be touched in the upper works!" said Lord Tony "Wanting to actually have anything to do with strumpets?"

"I would say that such compassion does her credit, though I fear it may be misplaced" said Stowmaries.

"I rather agree with you there, George" said Percy to Stowmaries "I admire such compassion; and I admire too her bravery. Had I known she was a girl I should never have driven her on that wild ride to Paris – and even so I was there only in the nick of time – but she made no complaint. And she plans well too; and with every effort not to interfere with any plans I may have made" and he outlined the way Peter had managed to head off suspicion after Chauvelin had been seen.

"You know, I always found that the boy playing a girl playing a boy aspect of that fellow Shakespeare made my head ache too" complained Lord Tony "Too much addling of the brains; girls didn't ought to do it. Fine girl by the sound of it; but no wonder she has queer ideas if she must try thinking too much."

"Not an accusation we can level at you old man" laughed Galveston. "Damned clever plan; but Percy, how can we leave her alone with someone like Chauvelin?"

"Oh my dear friend M. Chambertin and I understand each other" said Percy cheerfully "Besides, it is rather in his interests to treat all the members of the League with due respect; and the girl assured me that even though he had guessed her identity he had behaved with perfect propriety."

"Well by all accounts he was born a gentleman" said Lord Tony. "Mind, you have to give him credit; being stuck in close proximity to a blue stocking with peculiar ideas for weeks on end would make me want to strangle her."

Percy laughed.

"Fortunately Chauvelin enjoys her conversation; they hold, as I understand it, lively debate on the revolution" he said. He did not mention that he believed Chauvelin to be in love with Peter; it would serve no purpose but would inflame the indignation of the young men he was leading against the object of their rescue mission. Percy had not been a party to the look that Peter had returned to Chauvelin; and everything he had gleaned to date convinced him that she was quite unaware of the impact she had on her charge; and he scarcely feared that a lively young girl – even one with rather more revolutionary ideas than was strictly proper – would return the regard of a much older man of rather poor moral reputation, however well her friend Fleurette thought of her father. Perhaps Petronilla might see a father figure in him; but Percy's current moral dilemma was how to separate Chauvelin from Petronilla before she realised his feelings and acted in revulsion in such a way that his wounded pride would lead him to react as he had always reacted in such circumstance to plot some elaborate revenge for her. Of course if he loved her truly, as he loved his daughter, there might be some hope that he would behave with dignity and leave her to live her own life; but Sir Percy feared that this might not be so. There was, after all, the evidence of previous occasions when Chauvelin raged like a tiger when his pride was hurt; and even if the love was true and selfless, one could not be certain with such a man that it would not turn to hatred. And he was certain that no gently brought up girl, whatever the odd kicks to her gallop, could return the love of that old reprobate.

Percy was a ladies' man in the purest of senses; for he understood women as few men did as well as being popular with them, being one of the rare men who is as popular with women as with men. And in most cases he would probably have been right! Was it a miscalculation that failed to take into account the fact that the sort of young girl of whom he was thinking would never have embarked on such a mad escapade in the first place, let alone carried it through with such fortitude? Or was it merely a failure to understand that this young girl was predisposed to hear Chauvelin's side at least for the sake of her friend? It is sufficient to say that Sir Percy intended to act with the purest and most noble of motives, to prevent a young girl's life from being ruined; and if Chauvelin's cautious neutrality towards himself turned once again to raging hatred, well that was just the way it had to be.

-/-

In the meantime Percy wrote a letter to Jimmy Holte of Frogham to the effect that his sister's imposture had been uncovered but that Froggie might trust him to see that she would be kept safe and well, which to date she was. He did not mention the arrest which might have gone so much worse had not, paradoxically, the fear and hatred towards Chauvelin that had enabled him to bring the entire administration to interrupt Desgas' sadistic games; no point worrying Jimmy unnecessarily and Petronilla – Peter, whatever the girl wanted to be called – had walked away fairly scatheless and still joking as he or any of the men might do! Chauvelin had told him that he had warned the girl about Desgas; and he had meant that well, Percy was sure, though to tell a young girl that her captor was a monster of sadism might work on her mind. But Chauvelin had said that he was sure that Peter would manage to play the fellow; either the fellow credited her with a deal of instinctive wisdom or he mistook her for the sort of agent trained in the same hideous work that he had been involved in. Poor Peter! And now they must wait perhaps longer for this fresh hue and cry to die down; and every day she was with Chauvelin brought its chance of some word of hers turning his love to hatred and turning his tigerish temper on her.

He should visit more often; it was a risk but….

But not if he posed as the girl's sailor husband. Then too he might sleep there legitimately even if he left each day to ostensibly look up old drinking cronies and actually get on with other arrangements.

Sir Percy heaved a sigh of relief; that would do.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 Sailor, Sailor, Home from the Sea**

"OHÉ Pierrette! Where is my wife? It is I, your Jean, home from the sea!"

The voice roared in the street.

Peter peered through the window.

"Lud, I pray me there's not a real Pierrette with such a lout of a husband!" she said in lively horror. Chauvelin peered alongside her.

"I wager it's Sir Percy" he said "Look at the size of the fellow."

"I'm not going near that until I hear it laugh" said Peter "It's a very monster!"

The supposed _Lieutenant de Vaisseau_ was indeed a huge figure of a man, reeling drunkenly; and then as it almost fell gave that curiously inane laugh. Peter relaxed; and ran down the stairs, pausing only to cram on her mob cap.

-/-

"Eh bien, and what is this?" she demanded, having picked up a broom on her travels "You return from the sea after I have been missing you so long and the first thing you do on shore is to get rolling drunk? You sot, you cochon! You should be drunk on the passion of your wife's kisses you lousy ingrate, I who sit and weep for you sewing until my fingers are sore for your rabble of sailors! But do you come straight to your wife's arms? No you do not! You go instead to the Arms of Paris and drink yourself silly under the sign of the three toads!" she named an inn bearing the three toads of Paris as its sign.

"But my cabbage, my little cauliflower, a man gets thirsty on a long journey" declared Sir Percy ingratiatingly.

"In! In! I shall hear no more excuses; there are chairs to mend, and such work a man must do and you who are the world's greatest wastrel need not think you can lie about in the apartment doing nothing after you have been lying about in your Great Cabin all this time shouting drunken orders from time to time for your men to disobey!" Peter was enjoying herself – as were the loungers within the street – and Percy scurried up the stairs pursued by harridan with broom pleading incoherently with his cabbage.

-/-

It may be said that Peter collapsed in helpless laughter the moment the door was shut; and Percy, laughing also, blinked at the strange noise of Chauvelin's own genuine mirth.

"Peter, Peter you are better than any play" he said.

"Why thank you Armand" said Peter demurely. "Is there a problem?" she was suddenly serious, addressing Percy.

"None; but as you have already attracted attention I thought perhaps your famous husband should come home for a while; until in fact we are ready to leave" said Percy.

"Odd's fish!" said Peter "How are we to play three handed chess?"

"We shall have to cut him in on the loo" said Chauvelin "I hope he has plenty to lose; I'm still down several chateaux to you."

"That's because I take wild and unfeasible chances" said Peter "To liven up the play; loo's a bit slow otherwise. The only fun is in making up extraordinary and fictitious stakes."

"But the thrill of the gambling!" said Percy.

"I don't actually find gambling a thrill" said Peter. "I don't believe Armand does either."

"Only when I'm putting up the Palace of Versailles against the Palace of Westminster" said Armand "But that really is the comedy value. Most card games bar piquet or whist I find slow."

"Odd's teeth! Very strange" said Percy. "Well I doubt I shall be in much of the day; and that was an inspired move to make me the henpecked husband as well as one who drinks too much; I shall escape from the loving arms of my wife and excessive numbers of tasks set me to drink all day in various taverns – or so it may seem. A good excuse for you to drive me out in exasperation. I'll moan about the wife's mother too no doubt" he added.

"It is traditional" said Chauvelin. "I suppose this little fracas has set the plans back a way?"

"I fear so" said Percy. "Chauvelin, I'll get a mattress into your room; is that all right? I think the sofa is too short for my great length" he eyed the black horsehair sofa with disfavour.

"Definitely" said Peter "Besides it's never been broken to ride; the moment you try to sit on it the wretched thing attempts to throw you."

"Ah? My thanks for the warning. The apartment came furnished but the furnishings did not come with any ribbons in the tail" quipped Sir Percy.

"You may yet be more comfortable on a mattress on the floor in any case" said Peter "I tried both beds so I could pick my room – I go that far in accepting chivalry, that the man should have the least comfortable bed – and they both sag in the middle. Which for lightweights like us is not too much of a problem but I fancy you'd notice it, chief. Armand has the larger room which is convenient or we'd have to play fox and geese chasing about from one room to another. How did you do that massive wart on your nose?"

"Layers of partially dried out grease paint over a noxious thing moulded from sealing wax" said Sir Percy "A pretty thing is it not?"

"La! If one might say that the guillotine is a delightful toy and Paul Barras is a fine svelte figure of a man" said Peter tartly. "I wager it's going to hurt to take the thing off."

"Undoubtedly" said Percy "Which is why I'm not going to until I have to; you'll have to live with my beauty spot m'dear."

"Lud! At least on the nose no one may mistake it for 'the kiss' that you be a vastly outmoded aristo who pines only for monstrous hair and panniers large enough to smuggle enough foxes in to keep any amount of Spartan boys with sore bellies" said Peter.

"Egad! You do have eclectic reading tastes!" said Percy. "Panniers are still worn at court you know."

"Stap me! Well that's as good a reason as any to stay away from court" said Peter. "I never saw anything sillier; honestly, I hope Froggie doesn't want to present me; surely he knows me well enough to realise I'd be a disaster in panniers?"

Chauvelin was chuckling quietly.

"The only way I can see you with panniers, Peter, is with scythes on them as Caesar wrote the Britons had scythes on the wheels of their chariots."

"What, painted blue with woad to go with it? Froggie would have fits at such sartorial solecisms" giggled Peter.

"Lud! And WHAT would Prinny say?" demanded Percy.

-/-

Percy was watching narrowly how Chauvelin behaved; but there was nothing he could fault; one could not, after all, pick any quarrel with the warmth in the man's eyes when he gazed upon Peter; strange though it was to see any warmth in those cold, ice-blue eyes. Percy did not much like the concept of Peter using Chauvelin's first name, and so naturally; but to comment upon it might bring too much into the open. The girl was unaffected and natural, gently teasing in manner, treating both of them much, he suspected, as she treated her brother. She showed however a pretty deference to both, to him as the chief, to Chauvelin no doubt for his position as her friend's father. And Peter, who was afraid that the chief might banish her from her beloved's presence if he suspected that she cared for him, since propriety would be likely to demand such a course, acted with gay insouciance when the chief was around and made sure he never saw the loving smiles she bestowed on her Armand. That he was out most of the day made life easier; for then they might embrace; and too speak freely of their thoughts and even plans. Chauvelin had some reservations – deep reservations – over the idea of Peter filling a marital home with foundlings; and they discussed instead the possibility of a model foundling hospital with training to good trades. He found her ideas to combat poverty good, in increasing education in useful subjects to give good trades to those growing up with no trade to follow; though as he told her he knew little about children.

"I had nothing really to do with the rearing of Fleurette" he sighed "I engaged a wet nurse for her who also raised her; and taught her all the pretty ways that promptly entangled her in trouble when exposed to the revolutionary council in Orange. I cannot think I would be any good with the rearing of children, especially those who were not mine."

"And if, my dear, you came upon an urchin with the imagination to play some lark to discommode an adult who had caused him grief, a version of what the League has so often done to you writ small, would you not long to take him under your wing and train so intelligent a brat?" asked Peter.

"Possibly" said Chauvelin cautiously. "That is one rare example though; highly unlikely."

"And if you came upon a dead strumpet in the gutter and a golden haired mite clinging to her dead maman?"

"Ah, Peter! Yes you know how to find the place that causes wounds; yes, perhaps I might yet pick up that child; but I should find her a nurse" he said.

"And of our own children? You will encourage them to ask questions of you, and not get irritable if you do not know how a beam engine works but will go and find out?"

"As it happens I do know how a beam engine works" said Chauvelin.

"Excellent! I have never found anyone yet who does and who will explain it too me!" said Peter, beaming.

-/-

Sir Percy entered the room quietly as there was no sound from within, fearing the worst – and not sure quite exactly which possible reason for the quiet might be the worst – to find brown head and golden bent over pages of diagrams with the entirely unlover like words of 'separate condensation chamber, the great innovation of Watt' coming from the lips of Chauvelin. The terms 'reciprocating motion' and 'conversion to rotary motion' followed shortly thereafter; and his presence was barely even acknowledged. And Peter, instead of looking bored and merely entertaining Chauvelin by letting him talk was asking questions that sounded as though they were intelligent and seemed utterly fascinated.

Gadzooks, there was no accounting for tastes in interests!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 Plans to Move**

Peter finally took the splints off Chauvelin's arm; he had been using it fairly normally for several days and she decreed that it was surely healed after almost three weeks.

"I have not needed Laudanum drops to sleep for many nights since" he said. "I shall be glad to wash beneath the dressing; it has been itching infernally."

"You probably caught lice from Desgas; if they were on him they would take any opportunity to get away" said Peter.

"Yes, poor creatures" said Chauvelin.

Peter's bruises too had healed – it may be said that Chauvelin had been taking the opportunity every time Sir Percy was gone to kiss them better – and the Scarlet Pimpernel decreed them ready to travel as soon as he had finalised things.

"Ah bah" said Peter, who liked the French expression "It is simple enough, surely? I see two means to do this. One, I apply for a travel permit for myself and my mother to see my husband back to his ship; two, you arrange papers that Armand and I have been visiting Paris on family business and we return to a coastal village of your choice as husband and wife, or father and daughter or father and son or mother and daughter or mother and son at your discretion; we have been two women, mother and daughter, time perhaps to ring the changes on that or to exploit that we have so far got away with the detailed histories of the widow, the wanton and the wanderer."

"How beautifully alliterative" murmured Sir Percy.

"I rather liked it myself" grinned Peter "But I fear that if we pose as such too many questions might be checked up on concerning you and your ship; and it might not hold up as water-tight. Lud, but there are so many things that can go wrong, and by the purest chance; which is why, I suppose, you insist that your plans are adhered to as tightly as possible, to minimise the risk of anything but blind chance intervening."

"Precisely" said Sir Percy "Certain things can be planned to the last detail; most things can be planned in broad with a number of last details which can be fitted in as seems appropriate. The best plan involves having the least number of variations on the general plan; such that one might have three ways of removing certain prisoners; but the plan is, use prearranged costumes planted in perhaps more than one place to take them to a single prearranged place where transport out has been arranged. There have been times when the fine details have needed to be made up as I went along, for having no way to fore-plan – where I have one chance and one chance only, say, of entering a prison, finding and removing the victim, and having hoped that as I thought my way in I had already on the way thought my way out. It hasn't failed me yet. I don't much like doing that; but thus I was constrained to do in rescuing the Dauphin. That was a demmed tough one" he said.

"I regret the exigencies to which Hérot and I put you, Blakeney" said Chauvelin softly "The loss of little Capet was the most frightening thing I think we – any of us who might be held accountable – had ever experienced."

"You should not have permitted such outrages to the child if you did not expect him to be rescued" said Percy.

Chauvelin shrugged.

"The unfortunate brat was a political pawn as much as if he was a princess wed at six and sent away to strangers and rape by a husband she had never met as soon as she bled. Did I think what was done was right? That is not an issue. It was disgusting but it was the only way that could be devised to make sure he could be permitted to live without ever becoming a political pawn for a royalist cause, if he could be made to forget any semblance of royalty or nobility. I doubt he suffered more than the chimney sweep's brats Peter wants to adopt who suffer eye and lung conditions from soot, frequent beatings, the terror of being stuck and suffocated and so far as I know the danger of burns to the feet to spur them on if the fear makes them hang back. There is that which is nauseating in any child being taught to vilify his parents; but what of the innocent child born to the strumpet who must live with the stigma of such and the blows of any client she has? Oh it was a shock no doubt for the pampered child to suddenly find himself in much less savoury surroundings; but then, is it not a shock to a child with two parents who loses them to disease , is placed in a foundling hospital and then sold to a chimney sweep say?"

"Bravo, Armand" said Percy quietly "That is the first time I have heard you speak with passion – and compassion – on the subjects that would move a man to support a revolution."

"Oh you can blame Peter for arguing at me until I have my motivations and feelings straightened out in my head" said Chauvelin. "I'm beginning to get to know Armand Chauvelin. I don't always like him very much but at least I am starting to understand the fellow."

"Maybe I might say the same" said Percy quietly. "He's a good hater when he puts his mind to it."

"The trouble with being a good hater" said Chauvelin "Is that you DON'T have to put your mind to it. It can overwhelm and carry you along without a great deal of thought being involved. And then breaking away from the Juggernaut of hate as it drags you in its train….ah, that is hard."

"Any man who can do that is worthy of respect" said Percy. "La, we have diverged much from the conversation over whether I shall take any of Peter's suggestions to your escape; I agree that to use the widow, the wanton and the wanderer is perhaps to go once too often to the well. Besides, they KNOW their quarry has been here. There is that in the minds of our adversaries which might wonder if the trip to the seaside with the loving husband is but an excuse to meet instead with Citizeness Pierrette's lover and go with him to England. The three W's have run their course. I am tempted to be father, mother and son, and travel with you; then as a woman still your shorter inches are not so obvious, Chauvelin. The route I know already."

"If you travel with us, you must have reason not to be in the army surely?" said Peter.

"La, I shall be blind or halt or some such" said Percy "I can carry off a deformity without difficulty. And now I am assured that both of you have the acting abilities that can hold up over a long period I have more leeway in what I devise; I confess I was uncertain from the outset what I might expect of you. It also to some extent depends what papers I may lay my hands upon."

"Speaking of laying hands on papers" said Chauvelin "There are certain papers that I have concealed in various places which you might be able to use; that if they are of sufficient use to you might leave me less beholden to the League."

"Zounds, you are a proud and stiff necked creature; anyone would take you for an Englishman, gadzooks!" said Percy.

"Ah, the fellow stoops to insult" said Chauvelin smiling thinly.

-/-/-/-

It was a further two days before Sir Percy had the necessary papers; finding disguises to match the papers was an easier task.

"It is not ideal" he said "But as I had got my hands on some naval documentation it seems a shame to waste it; only you must travel to Toulon, the major naval depot. Naturally you will divert before you get there; there is an inn which I shall describe to you where you will change, to finish your journey. You, Armand, are the first Lieutenant going to take up a new place in the Frigate Sansculotte; you are taking your young nephew to take up a position that in the English navy would be midshipman, in the revolutionary navy an Aspirant. The Navy is not perhaps too glorious at the moment with the defeats at the hands of Lord Howe but sailors are respected."

"Except, I have no doubt, like English sailors who suffer from paymasters and provisioners if one may believe the comments I overheard in Dover when we met" said Peter.

Percy shrugged.

"Unfortunately for many, having care of money or goods in large quantities may corrupt" he said "Do you foresee any problems? I shall try to be around but I shall not be accompanying you."

"We shall manage" said Chauvelin.

"Without too many embellishments" said Peter.

"Abso-bally-lutely" said Percy firmly!

"Why was it not ideal? It seems an excellent disguise to me" said Chauvelin.

"Which proves" said Sir Percy dryly "That you are used to being an important official who can in any inn command, like any aristo, a room of his own. A naval officer travelling with a boy would certainly be expected to share with him, even if you don't have to bed down in a communal room."

"I hear that in the prisons there was sometimes no segregation; which people survived" said Peter " And Marie-Antoinette was subjected to a total lack of privacy. I think I am no less capable of dealing with that than a rather stupid superficial Austrian wench whose blood may have been blue but who by all accounts was a total widgeon. If we are in communal quarters we – or at least I – just don't undress and Armand makes jokes about slovenly boys sleeping in their clothes; and if we share a room I'm sure we can be civilised enough to change with our backs to each other."

"Innocent, most people sleep in their clothes in any case; especially when travelling" said Chauvelin. "It will not be remarked upon; and will indeed give us the patina and odour to be expected of a good patriot."

"Alas too true" said Sir Percy. "I advise even if you get a room to share you sleep also in your clothes; for modesty."

"Or I can sleep on the floor" said Chauvelin.

Peter made a noise of disgust.

"I will sleep in my clothes if I have to; but what's wrong with the obvious solution?" she said. Percy blinked.

"I appear to have missed it" he said.

"Perhaps it takes the sweet reason and gentle practicality of a woman's mind" said Peter, pulling an exaggeratedly winsome expression.

"It appears that she is in a mood to irritate; be nice, little one" said Chauvelin.

"There are two sheets; a top sheet and a bottom sheet" said Peter patiently "You were rather objecting to us being between them together, weren't you Chief? So we each take one sheet, fold it in half, with the folds to the middle of the bed and share merely blankets if it should be a sudden chill day that we need them" she said.

The two men exchanged looks.

"It has a charm of simple logic" said Percy. Peter smiled benignly and – it must be admitted –smugly.

"Are the married ones as bad as this?" asked Chauvelin. Percy laughed.

"Oh generally they're worse; more time to hone their wit on a fellow" he said.

"I live but to please, milords" said Peter, dropping an exquisite curtsey.

"One thing I shall do is to make sure that a member of the league is staying in each inn you stop at just in case of trouble" said Percy "Because if you encounter difficulties it is more likely to be in the inns than on the road. Whoever is in each inn will not identify himself; but will be watchful against potential problems. They will probably follow on after you too – unless there is any detail to be sorted, suspicion to allay if any have, say, thought they recognised you; to be certain there is no pursuit."

He did not say, though he thought, that it might also be necessary for the protection of Peter from Chauvelin, for all his apparent geniality.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 On Their Way**

The pair had left Paris not as naval officers but as a pair of crones – necessitating a lot of greasepaint on Peter – visiting a sister and brother-in-law on a farm; Chauvelin was too well known to too many people at the gates to risk him passing through with anything approaching his normal appearance. They had changed in a convenient barn to which they had been directed and in which their rather cursory uniform had been left for them; and went on their way to the next inn, at which they might take a seat on the _diligence _ to travel by stages to Toulon. Or rather to the stage before Toulon; at which point they had agreed to engineer some personal accident that prevented them travelling onward. Their naval trunks would go on, of course; but no longer needed by the travellers.

The inn where they would lay overnight was large enough that they might have a room between them; the _diligence_ would leave Paris very early in the morning and most of the travellers west would come from the city. This was a stage at which they might stop for a drink and to stretch their legs for ten minutes when the two newcomers would embark.

There was another guest in the inn; a young man seeming on leave from the army, travelling also on the next morning's stage; Peter recognised Lord Stowmaries beneath the grime but bar exchanging courtesies with a fellow traveller affected not to recognise him. Local peasants came in to drink after their day's toil but for the military men to hold somewhat aloof was not unusual; and Chauvelin created a further barrier between them by supposedly educating the youth he escorted on naval matters. Stowmaries had to admire Chauvelin's eclectic knowledge; he delivered a lecture on the working of the still relatively new telegraph and spoke about the importance of acquiring an optimal trim to a ship for the best speed and stability, and moved on to a lecture on ballistics and the danger of plunging fire from higher ships or land-based fortresses. Stowmaries thought that Froggy's sister was to be congratulated on her feigning total interest, wondered briefly if she understood any of the discourse and if so how much it bored her, and concluded that she might actually BE interested. He made another discovery as he watched narrowly, the youth's gaze on the mentor; stifled a whistle and muttered to himself,

"Stap me, the wench is in love with the fellow!"

Well if the wretched girl actually enjoyed being given lectures on geometry and trigonometry – which was where the conversation was heading – it was one solution to rid Froggie of an otherwise unmarriageable blue stocking of a sister.

-/-

There were plenty of other sailors on the _diligance_ also heading for Toulon; but as good belligerent patriots, having ascertained that they were not to be serving on the same ship as the officer and aspirant refused to give up their safe and relatively comfortable seats inside the vehicle; and Chauvelin, Peter and Stowmaries must find themselves on the precarious perch of a roof ride.

"At least it isn't raining" said Stowmaries cheerfully.

"It's going to be hot however" said Peter with a sigh. "Ah well! If the driver overturns us we at least should be thrown clear."

"Here! Less of that, youngster!" the driver called back "Don't you know that the chance of being overturned has dwindled almost to nothing now there are no accursed aristos to cause accidents with their dangerous driving?"

"Oh as good a reason to guillotine them as any!" said Peter. "But we naval types get upset when our channels of travel are less then twenty two miles wide especially when the English will insist on sailing on the left like the aristos they are!"

The driver laughed; the rule in France, as decreed by Robespierre, was to keep to the right, the peasant's side of the road; naturally this had been the sensible precaution for a man on foot, to walk towards oncoming riders or carriages, to have a better chance of seeing them and getting off the road. It had taken political significance however – and what customs did not, forsooth! – in that driving on the left might be seen to be the road-hogging aristocrat's way of proceeding.

Peter had needed to joke; she knew that as a gently-born girl she had not the same resistance to the sun that a peasant girl, inured to working out doors, might have; and that the hot dusty roads of France in August would try her seriously. Chauvelin sat himself to give her what shade of his body he might; and Stowmaries, nodding approval, moved to do the same.

"Peste! I cause trouble by being a weakling" muttered Peter.

"I'll pick a quarrel with one or two of the fellows inside at the next stage and see them incapacitated and unable to go on" Said Stowmaries in a low voice.

"Poor fellows; I see their point of view you know" said Peter. "Why should they move?"

"You've been imbibing too many revolutionary ideas from er the good lieutenant" said Stowmaries; who knew well that names were easy to pick up on to an ear that might be listening for them.

"Peter doesn't NEED my ideas" said Chauvlin dryly "I've been thoroughly lectured on the unfairness inherent in society on both sides of the channel. The brat is trying to talk me into joining the league and rescue all innocents regardless of birth. If she can talk the chief into it. Which is not beyond the powers of so persistent an advocate; I swear Peter could have talked Robespierre to a standstill."

Stowmaries had been along on the rescue of Fleurette; had already seen something of the other side of Chauvelin; and was romantic enough to love lovers. The sour words belied the look Chauvelin gave Peter; and Stowmaries put out a hand to touch the old adversary on the arm.

"I hope the two of you may be happy" he said impulsively "And though I doubt you'll end up in the league I for one would help you rescue your foundlings."

"Thanks" said Peter, smiling on him.

Chauvelin gave a wry smile.

"I'll reserve mine until I know how many foundlings she plans to saddle me with" he said. It was safer to talk now; the coachman had his attention taken by driving, with the sound of the jangle of harness and the creaking of the coach to drown low speech.

With aid from the men to shade her from the sun, Peter was only fatigued not exhausted when they stopped to eat; and managed some at least of a hurried meal. She looked somewhat drained however; and Stowmaries dipped into his store of money to purchase some strong spirits from the tavern keeper which he slipped into the drinks of some of those travelling within; and saw that the bottles they carried with them were half emptied and filled with spirits instead. It would not take effect immediately; but with luck they would sleep so tight overnight that they would not rouse in time. If Peter had to travel all the way on the roof there was every likelihood that she would be unable to finish the journey; it was a far more tiring way to travel even than riding _ventre á terre_, with too the added torture of the hot sun! No female should be asked to endure that, thought Stowmaries, even one who displayed as much pluck as young Peter!

And as she was almost dropping as she climbed off the roof that night, he felt justified in his decision.

His last act as guard to the pair was to see that his victims were plied with still more spirits; then he glided into the shadows and disappeared.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 Less than Ideal Lodgings**

There was already an occupant at the inn here; a disreputable looking fellow, tall and loose limbed, loud mouthed and slightly tipsy; and ready to insist that patriotic sailors drink with him. Stowmaries had managed a word with his chief ere he left and Sir Percy would see that sufficient of the sailors never made it onto the _diligence_ next day. Sir Percy noted the way Chauvelin, seeming to be chivvying his youthful companion, actually supported her tired progress; and nodded satisfaction. The hand under the elbow supported her up to the room filled with palliasses and found one to share; there were not enough for one each. And then he was escorting her outside; why?

The two silhouettes separated; Peter's figure disappeared by a hedge. Chauvelin stood as though on guard facing away. Sir Percy heard him say,

"Can you manage?"

"Fortunately" said a tired but still gay little voice from the hedge "I have learned to manage when caught from home on horseback; but boys' clothes are harder to escape from. All clear?"

"All clear ma mie" said Chauvelin.

Peter's figure reappeared against the sky.

"Sorry to be rather too nice about the bucket" she said "I was afraid too one of those men might come up."

He touched her face; there was a brief embrace. There was no need for further words; a touch said all. Chauvelin dropped a light kiss on her golden curls; it was no time for passion.

And Sir Percy, watching, received a revelation; for a man who calls his beloved an angel and worships at her feet may see her as a fallen angel if she transgresses his ideal; but when that worship moves to passion and beyond that to love he may be man enough to stand guard over his beloved while she relieves herself where he loves enough to protect her at the most mundane of human needs.

And still to call her by the quaintly archaic term of affection that had all but died with the aristocracy of France; for Chauvelin himself was an anachronism, a survival; and at base a gentleman whose memories of a time now gone called on him for his lady love.

The difficulty now would be to explain to Froggie that his sister had only managed to fall in love with the most inimical enemy the League had ever had; and to decide whether the romance must be broken or not.

The revolution had brought about strange pairings; the cousin of the Marquis de Chauvelin would never have normally permitted his daughter to marry a grocer's son for one thing. And Chauvelin was of good birth – if that was likely to weigh with Froggie. Thescandal of the_ mesalliance_ that this appeared to be would be nothing to the scandal if a headstrong piece like Peter decided she was going to elope with Chauvelin; and Percy did not put it past her in the least. Love conquered all; could it chain the tiger that was Chauvelin? If it would keep him from scheming, and Peter entered into this willingly perhaps it was in the interests of all.

And he who had risked his life more than had been planned so often for the sake of lovers should be the last to be thinking of separating them. This time would be testing; and then in England Chauvelin must properly woo the sister of the Viscount Frogham. And in society one might see whether it was merely the romance of the way they had met that had promoted the feelings of a young girl to go out to the man who had been placed in her care and charge. He would make that the condition of his support to Chauvelin when breaking it to Froggie.

Percy listened to Peter say, ere they went in,

"Tempting as it may be to snuggle up to you for comfort we must sleep back to back or people will say I am your catamite."

"Peter, where did you learn about catamites?" Chauvelin was faintly shocked.

"From the classics of course" said Peter "Though I must say it remains a mystery how they might stand in the stead of wives; I mean, anyone who has horses has some idea what may pass between men and women but I'm at a loss to see….."

"Spare my blushes, horrid infant" said Chauvelin "For I'M not going to explain it to you; ask Froggie."

"I did" said Peter "He didn't know either and suggested I ask the reverend who told me I was a froward and unnatural wench."

"Well he was right there" said Chauvelin, kissing the ear of his froward and unnatural wench. She leaned on him.

"Well, whatever the explanation may be, we want to avoid anyone making such assumptions" she said.

"Indeed" he agreed. What sweet torture it would be to lay beside her and not to gather her protectively into his arms! But the best protection was impassive impersonality; she was correct. One day he might explain to her a few more things to fill in the gaps in her more worldly education; for now it would be improper. And how adorable was her innocence allied with the outrageous things she had picked up reading the classics!

Percy, in the concealing shadow of HIS bush, reflected that perhaps at that Jimmy Holte might be relieved to have a husband for his sister who already knew that she was likely to come out with the most outrageous of comments, total non-sequiturs that might, if one were not acquainted with the casual parenting the previous Viscount had indulged in, give the most sporting fellow a distaste for a supposedly gently reared young lady. Zounds, though, her pluck more than made up for her odd ideas and rather too broad education; and Percy was certain that Chauvelin would not lack rivals in her courtship; perhaps in young Stowmaries as well as Tom Galveston. Well, one might see how he handled that; and whether the friendship of his beloved for comrades would temper any jealous fits.

And one had to credit Chauvelin with more sang-froid than another Armand, Armand St Just, Percy's brother-in-law; for apart from the one anguished outburst over Peter's arrest, Chauvelin, who had less cause to trust the League than St Just, had placed himself unreservedly and trustingly at the orders of Percy and of his chosen vehicle; had laughed and joked to relieve feelings of fear and danger as poor Armand St Just had never managed to do; had credited the girl he loved with ability and had been content – or if not content, at least ready – to wait when it was needed. Percy could not help recalling how St Just's fits of love and fear for his lady had come close to bringing disaster on the league. A controlled man, Chauvelin; and perhaps at that a fitter mate for a mercurial little lady like Peter than the young men of the League.

-/-

Young Stowmaries, as it happened, was well aware that he could, if he permitted himself, come to love Peter; but he was a level headed young man and she had already made her choice. He swore to himself that he would stand her friend – for was she not as much a member of the League now as any of them? – and should it transpire that anything happened to mar the love he saw between her and Chauvelin then he would be there to offer his heart and hand and to permit friendship and liking grow into something more. He would try, too, he promised himself, to get to know Chauvelin; and to like him as much as possible for that brave girl's sake. George Stowmaries was perhaps one of the more stable of the often erratically brilliant of the young men in Sir Percy's constellation.

And he rode through much of the night to brief Tom Galveston that Peter had been sadly pulled by the journey and that Tom was to see that she rode inside the _diligence_, whatever it took. He did not mention his discoveries of what lay between Chauvelin and Peter; it was not his secret to blab about after all.

And thanks to his good offices with the spirits, Peter and Chauvelin found that four of their previous travelling companions were so sodden with drink as to be unable to rise to go on; and gladly took the inside of the carriage.

And this state of affairs continued to the point where they were ready to diverge from their supposed route; for those within already had prior claim on those joining the journey, and the others who were riding within ready to fight for the rights of their citizen brothers as they had been for those now incapacitated and fighting only the waves of crapulent misery and nausea rather than those of the English Channel.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 The Final Leg of the Journey**

The days of travel in the wearisome motion of the _diligence_ came at last to an end; at least for Chauvelin and Peter. The night's stop was at that inn within a day's travel of Toulon where they had orders to find a way to break their journey. Chauvelin thought it was typical of Sir Percy that he might assess his underlings to a nicety and know whether they required orders as to how to carry out a particular task; or whether, as in this case, they were quite capable of improvising for themselves. There was at this inn an apple tree – on which the apples were not entirely ripe – and Peter eyed it thoughtfully.

"Gather what you can to eat without being noticed dear" she murmured to Chauvelin "We are going to miss the evening meal."

"Well if it is as tasty and wholesome as those we have eaten in the inns we have stayed in to date that will rather be an increase to our culinary experiences" said Chauvelin with a touch of waspishness.

"There has been a near famine I suppose" said Peter "For which the English may be only partially blamed, for Lord Howe did not prevent the grain ships getting in after last year's harvest failed; though I understand the Glorious First of June is held a technical English victory."

"_Tonnére_! There is yet no excuse, famine or no, for the spoiling of the good food that IS to be had; it is the abysmal culinary skills I deplore. What are you up to?"

"In England, it is called scrumping" said Peter. "A fall; it will take me a short time to rig this up; I thought if I arrange that you might acquire some provisions."

"Ah, the difference language makes" said Chauvelin "An army requisitions; the noble League acquires; a poor peasant steals."

Peter laughed; and left him to acquire food under any name he cared to give it.

-/-

The piercing scream that rang out from the apple tree followed by the slithering crashes of branches and a further heartrending and agonised cry of pain left Chauvelin's heart standing still; for a moment; then a boyish voice called,

"_Mon oncle! Au secours_! Ah, but I am killed!"

Peter would manage not to give anything away if she were truly hurt but she would not be shouting for him. This he reasoned as he ran – with others keen to view a scene of disaster – to the base of the apple tree.

It was still light enough to see that there was the huddled shape of a boy on the ground, his leg bent under him. A bucket also lay nearby, some scattered hay, and some kind of a bundle of clothing.

"What have you done, you stupid boy?" he asked sharply.

"Hèlas my uncle, I wanted an apple and climbed high to see if near the top any were ripe enough" declared Peter faintly "I have I fear broken my leg!"

"You dolt! Imbecile! What will your mother say to me, hey?" cried Chauvelin. "And what will the captain say? Do you realise you have thrown away your whole chance of an excellent career? And jeopardised mine? Now I shall have to stay with you on the morrow and see to finding someone who will care for you, write a letter to my sister of your foolishness and then hope to make it to my berth before I am called a deserter! Oh heinous youth, you are a trial to me! Let me see that leg of yours; you scoundrel, you idiot!" he straightened Peter's leg, and the girl gave an agonised cry and seemed to pass out. Chauvelin wrung his hands reflecting dryly that in light of the fact that his life was forfeit it was perhaps ironic that he had never had so much fun in his life as overacting grossly like this; never before had he understood the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel before these last few weeks; now, with nothing to lose, he was beginning to get an insight into their merry ways. "Who will find me something to splint this foolish boy's leg and help me carry him to the inn?" he cried.

There was willing help from a number of sailors; after all though the boy had not yet served they saw him as one of their own. Peter was lifted by strangely gentle hands and carried within and laid upon a sofa.

"Citizen, shall I fetch a doctor?" asked the taverner.

"A doctor! No, I cannot afford a doctor for him, not if I am to arrange for a good woman to care for him while he is incapacitated" said Chauvelin "I have set a few bones in my time, aiding the surgeon on my last ship; if one of these good fellows will hold him down I shall set the bone and splint it properly. Ah, how glad I am it is but his lower leg, the small bone; not so bad as I had feared; I shall not need to dent his boyish pride in stripping him, and too it will heal in but a few weeks. Thank you Citizen" as one of the men held Peter firmly by the shoulders.

"I've worked on the orlop too citizen; I know the score" said the man "It is no bad break for I see very little damage."

"Indeed; it is hardly out of place" said Chauvelin "Though I have felt the break with my hand. It will hurt a very little bit" he added.

Peter groaned artistically. Chauvelin bound a splint in place – he knew well enough how to do so for having recent experience– and thanked the sailor.

"The boy will not want to eat yet citizen; if he sleeps on here while the rest of us eat, we may ask that viands be brought to him" suggested the sailor.

"An excellent idea; one so resourceful will be an officer soon I wager" said Chauvelin. In the revolutionary navy such was indeed possible; if the man came to the notice of enough people who did not consider his resourcefulness a threat and if he lived long enough. The sailor grinned hopefully; and Chauvelin went with him to eat. Peter dozed; she was still tired enough from the travel to be glad of the chance of quiet repose in private. The taverner's wife brought a tray presently; Chauvelin had negotiated that the boy might be left on the sofa sleeping downstairs because of his injury; which too meant that Peter would not be subjected to the rigours of yet another communal sleeping room, with its coarse jests and sights that Chauvelin shuddered that his beloved should see; for men together will have their graphic jokes and games, and will tell stories that were lewd enough to make Chauvelin's cheeks burn, let alone Peter's. In sooth he had been glad that the travel exhausted her enough that she had been ready to fall asleep and missed most of the byplay; for he wished to protect her all he could.

And in the morning when the _diligence_ left, he feigned to go looking for one who would take the boy in and send him on to Toulon when he was fit.

-/-

Chauvelin returned in half an hour with a bucolic looking farm hand in whom he had recognised Lord Tony.

"You are in luck boy" he said "The citizen here has a cart with him and travels to a village closer to Toulon; I will ride along with you and then walk on and hope to make the port before the frigate sails."

"I hope you are in luck, my uncle; I feel a wretch to cause you so much trouble" said Peter.

"You are a wretch; and it is a judgement on you that you are hurt. And were you not I should take my belt to you" said Chauvelin.

Lord Tony effortlessly lifted Peter and carried her out to the cart, making little cries and moans as though he jarred her leg.

"She isn't really hurt is she?" he asked concerned.

"No, just enjoying the chance to over act outrageously" said Chauvelin "Peter you wretch, how did you contrive to fall out of the tree without hurting yourself?"

Peter chuckled.

"Oh I was never in the tree – at least, not when I supposedly fell out" she said. "I ascertained that behind the tree the land fell away so I might lie concealed; and when all were stretching their legs and relieving themselves I climbed up with a rough dummy I made with the bucket, and some clothes and straw, all attached to a rope. I yelled to get attention as I pulled the rope and down fell my dummy, with the wooden bucket to give it weight and to rattle in the branches and make a horrid thump when it hit; at which point I screamed my head off whilst pulling my dummy apart, scattering the straw and bundling the clothes together. I hoped it would all just be taken as the debris from an untidy fellow's orchard. And so it seemed to be" she added.

"How you think of such things!" admired Lord Tony. "But then Tom did say Froggie had a veritable blue stocking for a sister. And you climbed the tree to put the stuff up there? I never knew a girl who could climb trees!"

"Yes, Froggie is never quite sure if he likes me this way or whether he would rather I was conventional; but he has only himself to blame for treating me more like a brother than a sister" said Peter. "And believe me, climbing trees in breeches is a sight easier than doing it in skirts."

"Now I begin to see even more the significance of your pleasure that muslin is more in fashion that silk" said Chauvelin "Climbing trees in silk would be, I should think, a very nervous pastime."

"And think of the moss stains; at least you can boil muslin" said Peter.

"Stap me, yes!" agreed Lord Tony "Dash it, wouldn't dare to climb a tree in satin breeches; they'd never be the same again!"

-/-

The cart contained rough clothing for Chauvlin and a shift and kirtle for Peter; and they changed hurriedly within the hay. They rode on through the heat of the day and soon were approaching the coast.

It was perhaps unfortunate that there was a road-block ahead; and Chauvelin hissed to Tony

"That fellow with the drooping figure; if I am right, I know him, and he knows me."

"Into the hay" said Tony.

"Indeed" laughed Peter "But don't try to pretend we're not here; I have an idea that will make this fellow look right over Armand."

"Oh Jesu, what are you up to now?" said Chauvelin. Peter giggled.

"You had better muss me thoroughly" she said. "Will that fellow ever recognise immaculate fastidious Citizen Chauvelin in a farm hand groping a wench in the hay?"

"Probably not" said Armand dryly "I'm not sure I'd recognise me myself."

Tony raised an eyebrow; but trotted on.

"Halt in the name of the republic!" cried the guard.

"Ar, that's very well for you to say but you'd better hold the nag; he don't have no politics save that he believes deeply in his feed trough, and that's right ahead of him" said Lord Tony who might not be the cleverest of the band but was more than equal to doing bucolic peasantry.

"What have you in that cart?" demanded the officer.

"Well it look like hay to me" said Tony "Not having no dwarf to spin it into gold, more's the pity" and he spat.

"None of your lip, citizen" said the officer. "The hay is moving. Are you concealing anyone in there?"

"Concealing?" Tony went into a paroxysm of silent wheezy laughter. "Concealing? Revealing more's the like. Eh bien, Colette, Henri, the citizen wants to know what you are concealing."

"Just a game of hide the mousie good citizen!" called Chauvelin, emerging with straws in his hair, laughing down at Peter who was thoroughly mussed, her décolletage rather more prominently displayed than her kirtle was usually designed to do, and looking as though she had rapidly pushed everything back in.

"Ah you make light of it do you?" she said, slapping Chauvelin hard on the face; or at least, by cupping her hand making it sound a hard slap. "Hide the mousie, is it? So much for romance! Where now are the soft words, the sweet promises you made in the barn?"

"Collette my little bird! I am at your feet in adoration! And your knees! And…."

"That will do in front of all these citizen soldiers that you make think that I am a wanton not your own affianced wife!" said Peter tartly. "So you, _capitaine_, need not leer upon me as though I am a lightskirt, you and your men; I am a good girl!"

"Then why do you disport thus in the hay, citizeness?" demanded the captain.

"Eh bien man, you have never farmed" said Chauvelin, chewing on a stalk of hay "You do not plough until the seed is planted and the soil proved fertile!"

"Heh, you peasants are all alike" grunted the captain.

"The citizen thinks he is an aristo to speak so of the honest sons of the soil" jeered Tony "What is it, aristo; you have stopped us to borrow the hay because you have an aristo's vices and wish to lie with each other?"

The captain went purple.

"Get along with you, all you hayseeds!" he almost yelped.

"Well that's what the nag wants to do" said Tony and clicked his tongue to the horse. They drove on. After a long pause he added "And I'd not have recognised you either for that matter, Chauvelin; I think it's the laughing and smiling that does it; seems most unnatural, stap me it does!"

Chauvelin was still laughing, partly in relief.

"I have laughed more in the last few weeks than for years" he said "Eh bien, something of the joy of freedom was lost in the revolution when freedom became a joke that was not funny. We have not been free to laugh; or only the cruel laughter at the expense of others because such laughter is in relief that another is in trouble not ourselves. A regime that outlaws joy has missed the path. Liberty, egality, fraternity; alas that the republic should have so hollow a mockery of such high ideals."

"You change your politics, Chauvelin?" Tony raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Not in the least" said Chauvelin "I merely admit that the vehicles that tried to bring them about – myself included – have been much flawed. The grand experiment has had many years of failure. And though they are my personal enemies I hope that this new moderate council has success where others have failed; for the sake of France. I am a republican through and through, Lord Anthony; and I uphold my belief that the trial and execution of the erstwhile king was necessary. And those of the worst of the offenders against the people; and perhaps others who stood as symbols of oppression even if their worst crime was to be a worthless fool who did not know what they should have known. I am not about to change my politics in gratitude for a rescue, nor even for having been taught again how to laugh. I believe what I believe and I believe that monarchies are outmoded and unnecessary. I also believe that it is a shame that as a race, humanity has not managed to perfect something better that has not become corrupt. Athenian Greece came close; but it was a system that worked for a city, not a nation. The Roman Empire came close when it was a republic; but as always ambitious men see the way to absolute power. Only when the people have the education to understand the issues and to understand and want a republic and to truly understand what it means and can cast votes not enact mob rule will it be possible to have true representation of the greater mass of the people. I hope and pray that France will come to it; that our people will learn to grasp what it is to choose representatives, not by popular acclaim howled over by the mob, but on issues, debated issues; where a change of power from one set of representatives to another may be achieved by rhetoric and the civilised standing aside of those who have lost the popular vote, rather than by being dragged down, execrated and guillotined. Those who rise to lead the masses should be noble and stand head and shoulders above their fellows; not be a pack of rats tearing hungrily at each others' flesh in an orgy of blood in the hopes of being the ones to survive; not the ones to most nearly represent the ideals as leaders, but merely to survive. Robespierre was at least charismatic; but he was a madman. These Directory leaders are at least moderates; there will be a time to rest from the bloodshed that drags all down to the level of the rats who fight; each of us drunk on blood because while we taste the blood of others in our mouths we are not ourselves bloodied. And if I knew what to do to make my beloved France great, to install a better republic, I should not be fleeing now in a cartload of hay but I should be trying to find a way to put right all that is wrong. I am not a leader; I am not an orator. I am merely an idealist with ideals that lie trampled in mud and blood."

"I believe I respect you the more for not changing your views" said Lord Tony.

There was an inane ripple of laughter and Sir Percy was vaulting up onto the cart.

"Ah, Armand is a man of his principles" he said "And I too respect that in a man. Also a man who can admit that he has been at fault. You regret coming to England?"

"I regret that there is little choice but to do so" said Chauvelin "I don't want to die; or at least, not unnecessarily. If I thought for one moment that my death would cause change that would improve the lot of France that would be a different matter. But there have been too many deaths; they become meaningless. The crowd roars no more nor less, feels no more, no less whether the victim is a king or a cinder-wench. The point of removing the impediments to freedom is lost in a sea of carnage. My life? What does it count. My words? Just sound, once spoken lost and scattered by the breezes. There is only one orator that will restore any kind of semblance of peace, justice and normality on France right now; and he is called Time. Time to assess, to understand, to learn from the mistakes we have all made; time to forgive, to let old wounds heal. And thousands more will die; not of the Guillotine but of starvation, privation and murder of the normal kind committed by desperate people who have learned disrespect of life and of death. For the common person of France life is no better now than under the aristos; but because it has been proved that no man should have power of life and death over others perhaps one day it will be. Or who knows? Maybe the fools will forget what we fought for and will abrogate their responsibility and elect a king even as the Romans did. Though if that day comes I swear I shall no longer count myself French" he added.

"But they are also educated men" said Peter "Surely they have read history and know what was wrought by the twelve Caesars?"

"You might think so" said Chauvelin. "But having read history, did they manage to arrange a senate and rule of law?"

"You are bitter at the imminence of leaving" said Percy "It is natural. But I too share your hopes that this moderate rule will enable the beautiful country of France to recover; and that a way out of the war may be found without losing face on either side. It is futile for France to wish foreign adventure when there is so much to do at home, and surely negotiations can be opened now the shocking behaviour of Robespierre is curtailed. So at least I hope and pray; because I love France in my love for one of her daughters."

"Thank you Sir Percy" said Chauvelin. "We live in interesting times; though I suspect that you revel in that fact."

Sir Percy laughed.

"Well yes, actually, I do!" he said.

_Part II to follow_


	21. Chapter 21

**PART II**

**Chapter 21 England**

The joy with which dainty Fleurette greeted her father was to be seen to be believed! She held him close to her, laughing and crying in equal measure, for now her happiness was complete!

Viscount James Holte of Frogham was equally pleased to see his sister, though the way he expressed it was to say,

"La, my dear, you have had me in a pother! I should beat you until you can't sit down for a week!"

"Don't be a fool Froggie" said Peter. "Lud, if you can't manage without me for a few weeks at a time it's about time to be thinking about getting you a wife."

"Thank you, a sister is damnable enough; I'll not be leg-shackled too, egad!" said Froggie. Then he hugged his sister fiercely because he was extremely fond of her.

"I want to get married Froggie; you don't mind, do you?" said Peter.

"Poor fellow, yes I damn well do if you intend to foist yourself onto one of my friends" said Froggie.

"Not in the least; it's someone I met in France" said Peter airily.

"In France? Ah well, if the poor fellow is fool enough to wish to be shackled to you I suppose a foreigner was easily bamboozled into thinking you a good catch" said Froggie "I mean… I say, Petey, you aren't trying to marry some common sailor or a chimney sweep to reform him or anything like that?" he added uneasily.

Peter laughed.

"He has as good a birth as yours though he has good revolutionary ideals that would not wish to own to it" she said.

Sir Percy interposed a comment here.

"And I have spoken to him on your behalf, Jimmy, and convinced him that Peter should have a season first; just to be certain that her feelings are true. If she still feels the same way I see no bar; because I believe him to truly love her."

"No accounting for tastes" said Froggie, kissing his sister fondly on the cheek.

"True" said Sir Percy "Your sister's suitor is Armand Chauvelin."

Froggie's eyes bulged enough at that to look as though his soubriquet had been bestowed on physical grounds and not for his name.

"Stap me, Percy, I need brandy! I thought you said that Chauvelin's in love with m'sister!" he said.

"I am" said Chauvelin, coming over, with Fleurette by the hand.

"Oh Petey, but how charming! You shall be my stepmama!" cried Fleurette, hugging her friend "Bibi cherie needs a wife to take care of him when I am married and cannot do it!"

"I'd have said he was more than capable of taking care of himself" said Froggie.

"Don't be silly Froggie; no man is capable of taking care of himself" said Peter.

Froggie blinked and stared at the whimsical smile on the face of the League's arch enemy at that comment from his beloved.

"Brandy" demanded Froggie again.

-/-

It is not to be expected that Peter got away without a scolding from Miss Primm; to which she listened politely, and then said,

"Miss Primm; I am eighteen. I no longer need a governess you know. I am loath to send you away because you are not so young as you were; but I am aware of my shortcomings and am old enough to take responsibility for them. Will you stay here as my pensioner and stop treating me as though I were scarce out of leading strings or will you prefer to leave?"

"Oh Miss Petronilla! Where am I to go if you turn me off? I only try to do what I can to give pointers to a poor motherless girl! Your liveliness of spirit, whilst charming in some respects, might yet disgust any man who would otherwise feel a partiality towards you. And I would so like to see you respectably established!"

"Then have no fears; I am betrothed" said Peter "It is a secret betrothal because my brother feels I should have a Season; at which of course you would be my duenna, though I dare swear Lady Blakeney will see me chaperoned to most functions so that you are not overtired by the stupidly late nights that society seems to think acceptable. Still, they don't have to be up to oversee the tending of animals I suppose" she added.

"Nobody of consequence would suppose that the daughter and sister of a Viscount should be up to supervise the tending of animals!" said Miss Primm.

"Possibly not; but if one owns animals, one has a responsibility towards them" said Peter who preferred unfashionable country hours to those of the Town.

-/-

"Have you any idea how much trouble that fellow has caused the League?" Jimmy Holte demanded of his sister when they were alone in a salon in Frogham Hall.

"Actually yes" said Peter. "I know too that he has desired Marguerite Blakeney and did much out of personal jealousy and has come to realise that he also wished to punish her in pique and so did not act with the purest of revolutionary motives. And I don't care; because she has the man she wants and I intend to have the man I want."

"Well I'm not such a fool as to forbid it outright; JUST the way to send you to Gretna" said Froggie "And probably taking my best hunters to do it on, stap me if you wouldn't; because I know you m'girl and an ordinary carriage and four would be far too pedestrian a dash for the border for you."

"Oh I might borrow your phaeton and drive Armand unicorn" said Peter.

Her brother spluttered.

"Competent with the ribbons you may be, but you're still far too much a mere whipster to try driving unicorn!" he cried "Promise me you'll NEVER take out my team of three or – or I SHALL forbid you to marry him!"

"I promise Jimmy darling" said Peter.

"Hmph, well" he said "Not sure I trust you when you're being submissive."

"Darling, you should find yourself in perfect accord with Armand; he said almost exactly the same thing."

Froggie sighed and pushed back his hair.

"Percy says he's in love with you; that it's true love. I wish m'dear that you will tell me all your adventures; might not be as clever as you, wot, but I know a few things about the world and nobody has ever faulted my ability to judge men" he said.

"You've an instinct for it, Froggie; which was why you came looking for me when you realised that wretched roué was missing as well as me in York" said Peter.

"Well I suppose I might have known you'd deal with him adequately for yourself; though I heard the fork was never the same again" said Jimmy. "I care about you, Otter – Peter you like to be now I suppose."

"Oh pet names to a brother are signs of love" said Peter. "Armand calls me Pierette. One day I shall be 'mama' and maybe even 'grandmama'. One collects all sorts of names; it's the tone in which they're spoken that counts."

"You can't go around using his first name in public; you do realise that?"

"Of course I do. I might not like Sir Percy's decree that I have to have a season; but if the alternative is to have his enmity rather than grudging support I'll live with it. I like Sir Percy; he's the chief. What he says goes."

"Well you understand that. All right; tell me all about it."

Peter chuckled.

"Only if you promise faithfully not to get angry over my terrible breaches of propriety."

"How bad are they?" asked Jimmy hollowly.

"I wore your tail coat with morning breeches because they were the ones I could get to fit best" said Peter.

"Thank God nobody in England saw you!" cried Jimmy, horrified. "There is little less you could do that is a worse solecism!"

"I rather thought you might think so" said Peter; and proceeded to her tale.

Jimmy was so incensed over her abuse of his wardrobe – as she had hoped – that he scarcely took in that she had stripped her charge to tend to his wounds.

Jimmy was actually extremely impressed by his sister's resourcefulness; and too by Chauvelin's fortitude and the trust he put in the chief. Nobody KNEW anything but there were always whispers within the League that the chief had suffered torture because Armand St Just had failed to obey implicitly; it opened a new window on Chauvelin.

"And when I got back and looked into his eyes, I knew" said Peter. She continued with the story; had Jimmy laughing uproariously over the antics she had played as the diminutive virago of a wife of the big sailor – he knew the size difference between her and Sir Percy and appreciated the comedy the more – and confessed to him her weakness riding on the roof in the sun.

"There's not another woman in England could do that but my clever brave sister" said Jimmy "Egad, m'dear, you've done the family proud; I couldn't have done better. Nor as well, dammit; you're a true member of the League."

"I wish you'd tell Sir Percy; he seems to think you might blame him for not treating me as a delicate flower."

"You? A delicate flower? As delicate as the bindweed Hodges is always complaining he can't get rid of" said Jimmy. "Those inns have communal rooms…. How did you….?"

"In a bush, after dark, with Armand keeping cave of course" said Peter.

"Oh!" said Jimmy. "Well I tell you what; the fellow must love you. Not every man can cope with the fact that women piss too. Objections withdrawn; seems to have been damned protective of you, same as I would have been."

"Yes Jimmy; with one main difference."

"Eh? What's that?"

"I don't want to kiss you" said Peter.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22 On The Frogham Estate**

"Look here, Petey, have you got your heart being set on being presented at court?" Jimmy asked his sister at breakfast. Chauvelin and Fleurette were both there too.

"Do I have to be?" asked Peter warily.

"You don't mind not being?" Jimmy, Viscount Frogham, hero of many a rescue in enemy territory heaved a sigh of relief. "I don't think I'm a coward, but the thought of you and panniers without causing any social disaster is more than I can imagine with equanimity."

"You should do as I suggested and fit her with scythes on the sides" said Chauvelin calmly helping himself to toast.

"Fit her with – ha, like the chariot of Boudicea wot? Dammit, Armand – do I call you Armand by the way? – I swear she'd be as destructive. Let her loose in panniers and Colchester would fall in flames."

"I love you too" said Peter equably, spearing a mushroom. "I have no desire to be presented at court and as I don't need to be an accepted part of the marriage mart I have no need to be. You can always whisper things about long standing arrangements and not wishing to raise the hopes of the unattached young men and all that sort of thing if there are problems. The Prince of Wales won't urge you will he?"

"No likely not; it's Percy he's great friends with. Besides, poor devil, he has problems of his own; his father's insisting that he marry; they're arranging a marriage with some female called Caroline of Brunswick. Hard lines on Mrs Fitzherbert; he's married to her in all but name. And some say he actually did marry her, though of course it's null and void without the consent of the crown. It means you won't necessarily get vouchers for Almack's or invitations to the houses of some of the sticklers of society."

"Oh good" said Peter.

"Unnatural wench" said Froggie "You're supposed to long to go to Almack's and catch the eye of a patron and be the beauty of the season adored by every man."

"Yes but I don't want to be adored by every man; I'm content to be adored by one" said Peter, smiling and blushing at Chauvelin.

"I daresay you'll be doomed to disappointment then" said Chauvelin "You are too beautiful and lively not to attract admirers ma mie."

"Ah well, I can always fall back on the woad and scythes then" said Peter. Her brother spluttered.

"You are going to be all that is proper, dammit!" he said "And what's more we have all winter to make sure you dance properly; I'd hate to have to admit my sister brought catastrophe to a cotillion or murdered a minuet!"

"Or I could sit out and just watch" said Peter hopefully.

"And what's the point of doing the season if all you do is play the wallflower? Play the game, sister; you're not being fair" said Jimmy.

"All right; I will" said Peter "Only I shan't accept any invitations to functions Armand isn't invited to as well. Fleurette, do you want to do a season with me?"

"Oh no!" cried Fleurette "I should hate to think of all those people; being stared at! I would hate it above all things!"

"Well that's one point we agree on" said Peter "Though my dear it makes you nervous; and me it merely irritates and bores."

"Tell you what" said Froggie "I reckon you're a changeling; well I would if you didn't look like the old man. No interest in clothes or parties; incomprehensible."

"I did inherit the love of riding; be fair" said Peter. "And the skill."

"All right, that I grant you; and I wager you could drive unicorn with a bit of training; but you can jolly well buy your own matched trio."

"Oh I don't want to if I can't irritate you by it" said Peter calmly "I have better things to do with my time than drive unicorn anyhow; I need a house for foundlings."

"Confounded wench; what you need is a stay in Bedlam" said Froggie without heat.

"It's called belonging to the League" said Peter. "Any idea what the other business was that Sir Percy was up to while we were lying snug in Paris?"

"Funnily enough, rescuing another Jacobin; one André Vallon" said Froggie. "He married a girl of noble birth and her father denounced him to the anti-terrorists. Jacobins are to be hunted down it seems."

"Heh, I know him slightly" said Chauvelin "An enthusiast; all heart and very little head."

"Oh they are not all such bad fellows those" said Froggie "So long as their honour remains intact" he tailed off looking uncomfortable; having been one of those who had speculated why St John Devinne had left the League for the army after having needed to be rescued by Sir Percy. And there was Armand St Just. Well the chief trusted St Just.

"Is the backlash against the Jacobins likely to get out of hand?" asked Peter. "Are we likely to be rescuing more of those who would have opposed the League to make the point that mob rule is never a good idea?"

"Odd's teeth I don't know" said her brother "I don't worry about the politics; I just go where the chief sends me and do what he tells me. So long as I don't break my leg, I know, so don't bother to say it."

"I'm not so heartless" said Peter demurely. "I don't have to say it."

"I'll put myself behind any mission to rescue an idealist" said Chauvelin "Information is my major field of expertise. Unfortunately there are plenty of so-called Jacobins who saw it as a route to personal power and nothing else. It was initially quite moderate you know; radical in terms of reforms. Greater rights for women, removing the control of the clergy from politics – something that was rather important when you consider the power such as Cardinal Mazarin wielded – widespread education and so on. The idea that a man's or woman's birth should not matter; that it was their worth that mattered. We wanted a meritocracy."

"But it got usurped by the power hungry?" asked Peter. Chauvelin shrugged.

"It got drunk on its ability to force others to its will" he said. "The concept that the common good outweighed any single life led to the concept that to bring about freedom any who might stand in the way of freedom had to die. When I found that principle applied to Fleurette" he smiled at his daughter "It made me question. It made me question whether the life of this person here or that person there really DID pave a more secure road to freedom. One reason I went back to Paris was to debate the subject with Robespierre; to ask him when merely loving and acting from love had become a sin. Only to find he was overthrown. Fleurette loved the Frontenacs – the good Lord alone knows why, they patronised her as they patronised me in a way that gave me an unrevolutionary desire to explain to them in words of one syllable that my birth was better than theirs and therefore so was my sweet child's – and for that love she acted for them."

"Oh Bibi, Rose is a dear friend of mine, and so patient!" cried Fleurette "To be crippled from birth; it must be so hard! And Bibi, they were not patronising to me; just very quiet and hard to get to know if you did not live there all the time, I think; you would never have taken Monsieur as anything but a quiet farmer if you did not know he was of noble birth!"

"Then perhaps it was merely that they did not like me" said Chauvelin refraining to point out that she felt a need to call him 'Monsieur'. "Why then, that brings them into equality with most of France; and England too."

"Armand, the people who matter like you very well" said Peter. "And we shall, now you are here, have the happy event of Fleurette's marriage; and Amédé is to go as George Stowmaries' factor in Essex so they will be in the country where Fleurette is happiest and yet near enough Town for news to reach quickly. And close enough to us for you to ride over, because I thought as I did inherit from my Great-Aunt we might set up house in her place near Sudbury. It's a pretty part of the country. And they used to grow woad there" she twinkled at him.

"Ah I see" said Chauvelin "You will then be the lady of the manor and set yourself up as, let me see WOADicea."

"Oh very good" applauded Jimmy.

It was not perhaps the most profound way to measure a man; but to Jimmy's mind a man who might make a dreadful pun was somehow 'all right'; and as few Frenchmen had the concept of such he smiled definite approval on his future brother-in-law.

-/-

Chauvelin knew England; or at least, he knew London, to some extent. He had been, after all, a diplomat; but a diplomat does not go everywhere. He had certainly never had the opportunity to stroll around a country estate with the owner; which Jimmy invited him to do.

"Need to check up; damn good bailiff but a fellow needs to do his own work from time to time" he said "Having been laid up has been a confounded nuisance."

Chauvelin was used to the servility expected by French aristocracy; Jimmy was a Viscount, Vicomte in French; such were generally arrogant enough. His own father had been a Vicomte, hard, demanding and arrogant; a sportsman and built on large lines like Sir Percy; and it dawned on Chauvelin that such might be one of the roots of his initial dislike of Sir Percy; his physique. The slender, short son who resembled his mother was always going to at fault with his bully of a father.

He half expected to see the same attitude to Jimmy, the rather cork-brained sportsman; but he was in for a surprise. The tenants greeted the viscount with respect; but not with humility. And Jimmy chatted about their troubles, shared a joke with them, permitted himself to be talked into taking a tankard of the first pressings of the St John apples as cider and pronounced it too damnably raw to drink but full of promise. He introduced 'M. Armand' as the father of Miss Fleurette and held his temper in a disagreement with an argumentative cottager over what the fellow's rights were.

He said to Chauvelin as they walked on,

"The thing is, if the fellow wasn't so busy trying to prove his rights and demanding I doubt I should be so firm in sticking to mine; if he only asked if he might be built another ruddy outhouse instead of trying to make it appear that I have wronged him I should probably laugh at his cheek and see that it was done. And I think" he added "If he were a good manager I should think about it in any case; if only to take the wind out of his sails and surprise him. But he doesn't actually need a new outhouse; he doesn't use the byres he has efficiently."

"You are a shrewder man than I thought, ah, Jimmy" said Chauvelin.

"I'm not clever like m'sister; but I wasn't born yesterday" said Jimmy. "You've run an estate or been part of running one; there's always one."

"My father would have horsewhipped him" said Chauvelin dryly.

"I say!" said Jimmy much shocked. "Rather an extreme response, wot?"

"The sort of response that led to such as your obstreperous tenant being ready to lead revolution; and those of us who saw the abuses being ready to agree" said Chauvelin. "Having seen your estate, I should imagine if anyone came talking revolution they would be met by bucolic stares of incomprehension and the entire lot – save perhaps your noisy friend there – tapping the side of their heads in the time honoured fashion. And I suspect that such is moderately universal in England which is why the English, even those who are the general masses, call us 'murdering devils'."

"And yet Fleurette showed no surprise over the way she is treated; leading me to suppose that the Frontenacs were peaceful and not arrogant" said Jimmy.

"Oh Monsieur would get his hands dirty with the labourers; I grant you that" said Chauvelin "I suppose I resent that Fleurette was a companion to the crippled daughter; a kindness to the girl who was not quite of the right class. And though anger over such ought to be ridiculous to me, I am still the product of my rearing."

"I should think we all are" said Jimmy "Petey and I adored our father, whilst being alive to his faults – which were legion; he rode too hard, drank too much and maintained a succession of mistresses each younger and shriller than the last, though I'd rather you didn't mention that to Petey; I don't think she knows."

"Don't bank on it" said Chauvelin dryly. "And if I were you I'd worry about half siblings; because you know if any come forward, Peter is going to champion them."

"There was only one who tried it on after he died and her child was the image of…. Well, let us say another man about town. I let her know that I knew full well who had sired her child; and then arranged for the boy to have a decent education for her kindness to my father. After all, whose child it was might have only been a coincidence of dates and the poor brat's real father would have laughed in her face. I'm his godfather and I keep in touch. Papa would have wanted me to do that; Peter has his instincts only taken to extremes. He was always larger than life; a big man with a big laugh, the sort of laugh that has people joining in without knowing why. Bluff; a sportsman; always at the front of the pack; and the tenants adored him. Quarrelled and made up with his neighbours almost constantly but a man you could always go to in trouble. Mind you I preferred not to go to him if my troubles were self inflicted; he was used to say that he was a bad example and we should do better than him. The few occasions in which I was new on the Town and got talked into drinking too much, Petey came to my rescue because my valet would have scolded. Well Petey scolded; but at least she also provided me with coffee and waited for the headache to recede. Damn but she's been almost a brother to me! I tease her that she's an embarrassment but honestly, Armand old man, you couldn't ask for a better girl."

"That was why I was asking for her; because there isn't a better girl" said Chauvelin. "I can't say I'm looking forward to the next year; I've grown too used to tête-à-têtes with her. And I don't mean for guilty snatched kisses; I love to talk with her."

"Oh I'll see what I can arrange" said Jimmy "You can't stay with us in Town of course; but of course you'll be much in the house. Lud, we have to see her dressed for the season; and it's no good leaving it to Otter, she'd pick half a dozen round gowns and a single ball gown and ask why it matters that she should be seen in the same gown twice."

"Why does it matter?" asked Chauvelin.

"It's impolite to either your hostess or your guests because it looks as though you don't think them good enough to dress in something new" said Jimmy.

"Now THAT is taking courtesy to excess" said Chauvelin. "I approve Peter's attitude."

"Well dash it, I don't" said Jimmy "And as I'm paying for it she shall jolly well be as extravagant as I think she ought to be."

"May I sit in on the argument? I wager it will be vastly entertaining for the spectator" said Chauvelin "Especially if I get the chance to fuel the argument with barbed comments."

Jimmy laughed.

"Oh sit in by all means; we probably need a referee. And I don't know about you, old man, but I'm hungry; reckon it must be lunch time."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23 The Wedding of Fleurette**

The wedding of Fleurette to her Amédé was a merry affaire; and if Amédé Colombe was surprised that the grim M'sieur Armand was relatively affable he was also very pleased.

"I know I am not the man you might have picked for Fleurette" he said "But I love her truly."

"You have given your all to take care of her in time of danger; what more dare a man ask for in a son-in-law?" said Chauvelin "You have my every blessing, so long as you make her happy."

"Sir, I shall endeavour to do so with every breath in my body" Amédé earnestly.

Fleurette was positively glowing; there was no doubt as to her happiness, at least for the time being.

She was looking a little flustered by the time Peter had checked that as a country girl she had some idea as to the physical realities of marriage and discovered that Fleurette was totally unaware that male beasts mounting females had anything to do with reproduction. She declared that her Amédé could not be so coarse.

"Lud, Fleurette, try for a little sense; you sound as if you have more hair than wit!" said Peter "It is supposed – and I speak I admit only from hearsay – to be very pleasant between those who love each other; because we are NOT brute beasts. You should enjoy him kissing you and fondling you and let it happen as it may; and then you will thank me that you have screeched in horror at me, and not hurt Amédé's feelings by showing revulsion at a perfectly natural act for which Le Bon Dieu made us. It is nothing to fear; do you think for one moment that Amédé would do anything to hurt you? It will be but further expression of his love for you that he wishes pleasure for you and also babies for both of you."

"Oh do you think so?" asked Fleurette.

"Yes" said Peter firmly, fervently hoping that Amédé had not placed his Fleurette so high on a pedestal that he would be afraid to actually be her husband in fact. Lud! That a country girl should be so ignorant; one wondered rather how town-bred females managed when they were first married; unless of course it was the sort of thing one's mother was supposed to explain. Both she and Fleurette were deficient in that office and one could scarcely expect a spinster like Miss Primm, who was afraid of anything not quaite naice to explain anything to anyone!

"So you and Bibi will…"

"La, Fleurette, it's not polite to speculate on what one's parents do; not that it stopped me wondering about papa's many mistresses. Just enjoy the day; and enjoy your Amédé."

She shooed Fleurette back to the dance floor; where the joy of being near her Amédé made the girl forget any brief discomfort of spirit given her by Peter.

"You look a trifle – I believe the English phrase is 'blue devilled' – my dear" said Chauvelin.

Peter pulled a comical face.

"I thought I ought to explain to Fleurette about the birds and the bees" she said. "As well I did; she had not worked out anything for herself which one might have thought any girl surrounded by nature ought to have done."

"I do not believe gently reared girls are encouraged to make the er assumptions any farm lass might" said Chauvelin dryly.

"Does it shock you that I am no idiot then and can see further than my nose?" asked Peter.

"I'd as soon, to be quite honest, that you were not to get as big a shock as I suspect most gently reared girls get" he said dryly. "That city waifs acquire the knowledge from an early age is not right either. I do not hide from you that I desire you as well as loving you; I would hate to think that knowledge of that would frighten you. It had not occurred to me, I have to say, that Fleurette would be ignorant to such an extent; because despite what many think innocence and ignorance are not the same. You are a delightful little innocent but you are not ignorant."

"Will you still love me when I have lost the innocence through…. Through experience?" she blushed.

"Of course; because we shall have explored so much together" he said. "Even as I love to teach you such things as Trigonometry so I shall delight in teaching you to be a wife."

"You're blushing too" said Peter.

-/-

The Frontenacs had been invited to the wedding; and had come. Chauvelin cynically declared that it was because the invitation came from the Viscount Frogham; and Peter told him that he was being over sensitive. The Frontenacs were perhaps surprised that the wedding party included all the estate tenants; for in France only other members of their own class would be invited to a party. Froggie of course assumed that everyone would want to celebrate the wedding of Miss Fleurette and her Amédé, since he had stayed in the village – at his own request – driving a horse and cart for anyone who needed it until George Stowmaries had offered him the job of factor, a job more nearly suited to his skills with assessing goods and handling money. Monsieur de Frontenac, after his initial surprise, had settled down very well and seemed to enjoy himself stepping country measures in line dances; and Madame had every excuse to sit out with her crippled daughter. Peter made effort to talk to them both and came to the conclusion that any initial stiffness was but a degree of wariness learned during those difficult years in France; and she kissed Rose warmly and told her that in England she must not see a lack of physical mobility as a bar to study and do anything she wanted; and loaned her Mary Wollstonecraft's book 'A Vindication of the Rights of Women'. Rose was pleased to be talked to kindly though she had been cosseted much and had no idea how to set about being independent minded as this fascinating yet somehow slightly frightening girl suggested. Rose looked upon Peter as a strange yet marvellous being; and it may be said gave her young heart in as much adoration to such a lively idol as did the members of the League give theirs to Sir Percy. Fleurette herself had been a gentle and adoring companion, content to sit for hours to play quietly with her crippled friend; companions in England had either been colourless or impatient to be up and doing, those activities forever barred to Rose like shopping; and all of them had obviously pitied her. Yet from Peter, the most active girl Rose had ever known, there was the ability to be restful. Peter resented having to sit still for activities she saw as pointless; but too she loved to sew and would sit patiently at her needlework for hours; and that capacity she had brought to waiting in the safehouse with Chauvelin; and could apply it to sitting with and entertaining Rose Frontenac. She felt compassion for the crippled girl; but that is not the same as pity, and Peter's concept of dealing with the matter was to suggest ways in which Rose might enjoy herself without needing her all but useless legs; so that Rose herself might feel that she was achieving as much as any able bodied girl. It was a refreshing attitude that fired Rose with enthusiasm; and she was sorry when the visit came to an end. Peter declared that they should see much of each other in Town when she came for the Season next April; because she might escape from parties and people to her dear and restful new friend for refreshment of the spirit. And Rose thrilled at the idea that her quietness might actually be of use to wonderful Miss Petronilla!


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24 Sir Percy calls on Peter**

Autumn came!

First harbingers of the golden autumn days were the russet apples upon the trees, to be picked and laid away in straw for the winter, or turned in to cider to replace the thin cider from the St John's apples, ripe in midsummer. And after the apple harvest and the wheat were in, the stooks in the field winnowed and the grain stored and the hay tightly stacked then the trees put on their gay autumnal gowns for one last celebration before the winter, brown and yellow, orange and russet, every tree with its own favourite colour, and the wild cherries in the woods gayest of all with their scarlet gowns determined to stand out amongst the other trees! Slender birches laid golden leaves beside their silver trunks as though to declare that they were indeed the princesses amongst all trees; the oak was content with sober brown as befits a patriarch.

And then in the first autumn storm the trees took their gowns to that wild winter dance in which the wind, rapacious and cruel, tore their gowns from them, whirling the leaves in their own fey dance before casting them to the ground, one tree's leaves mixed irrevocably with another, never to be worn again by that tree; and the skeletal branches stood stark and naked, bared to the winter's cold fingers and seeming lifeless; were it not for the buds that held the promise of the green spring gown to come!

Only the beech, that prim old maid of a tree, held onto her leaves; brown and dry yet tenacious they clung to her branches, protecting the slender buds of next year's growth; clinging to a lost cause as the aristocrats of France tried desperately to cling to their way of life until each in turn was taken to give up their life indeed and not just the way they had lived!

With the first storms came Sir Percy and Lady Marguerite Blakeney; and whilst welcome at any time, the gravity on the Scarlet Pimpernel's face made Jimmy ask,

"What do you need chief? My leg is entirely healed and at your service."

"I'm afraid old man, it's the loan of Peter that I'm asking for; deuced improper of me and all that but….. well there's a very young girl in the case, and Peter has some exceptional skills…. Not that Marguerite isn't willing to do all she can but Peter has that boyish ability to plan" he glanced at his wife, not wanting to denigrate the woman he adored.

"From what I have heard" said Marguerite "Petronilla has been raised to see herself at least half boy and will attempt things that it would never occur to me to do, actress though I may be."

"Tell us the story chief" said Peter.

"I generally do my planning and pass out roles; it is less of a risk to the League if they do not know too many details until the last minute."

"If you require my femininity chief you may also require a female insight and suggestions" said Peter "I suggest that if you accept using a woman as part of the league, you jeopardise the mission by not taking that very different view into account."

He looked at her shrewdly.

"I concede that you may have a point" he said. "Very well; we shall have to move at once if you decide to accept the mission and the risk and Froggie permits it."

"I accept; and he'll permit because the League goes where it is needed" said Peter.

"Oh absolutely!" said Froggie.

Sir Percy nodded.

"The innocent we wish to rescue is the illegitimate daughter of a Jacobin; one who is dead and who took, as far as I know, but little interest in his child. Her mother appealed to us because the _jeuness d'oree_ as they call themselves, part of the backlash against the Jacobins, have sworn to punish all the families of such, alive or dead. They have threatened to take this innocent child, who is just twelve years old, and place her in a brothel; not just any brothel but one that caters to…" he cleared his throat "To men who like to hurt. I do not believe that she can hide the child much longer and it is probable that we shall have to rescue the child from such a place."

"I have heard of such places" said Chauvelin "They are abominations; I tried to get them shut down but too many powerful people had interests in keeping them open; abusing their position as freely as the aristos who had such places set up in the first place abused theirs. The Aristos used such places for the kidnap of bourgeois girls whom they could not so easily hurt on their own lands as they might the peasant wenches; I believe some aristo girls went to them by way of vengeance; and I believe equally that you diverted a selection of such and brought them to England, the one and only time I blinked at the activities of the League. I should have clashed with you had they been bound for the guillotine; but a man has his principles even when they have been eroded by the almighty hatred."

"I thought it was remarkably easy" said Sir Percy. "Stap me! My apologies for thinking you must have been diverted by dyspepsia or some such!"

"The point is" said Chauvelin "If they intend the one in Paris to be destination for this child, I have raided it; I can draw a plan. And if you will accept my aid I will come along and lend it."

"After all the trouble I went to, to get a known Jacobin out of France?"

Chauvelin gave a short laugh.

"So who is going to look for me there? Operating boldly in the centre of Paris? Have not you used such a principle yourself? Besides I know something else about them; there was a time when patriots were encouraged to wed aristos; and it was not uncommon for them to pay a fee to have an unwilling wife locked for a few hours in their torture chamber to show her that she could have things a lot worse. For a bourgeois to take a Jacobin wife there….."

"Perfect" said Peter "And what's more, not just any Jacobin wife; but with my colouring you claim that I am the notorious daughter of Armand Chauvelin."

"It has a degree of irony than cannot but amuse" said Chauvelin. "They will strip you to the shift; I will need to bruise you on the arms to show I have exerted all proper force on you. I can get away with claiming that I did not want to mark your face since it was an asset which I had paid for. You will, once in the torture chamber, need to pick the lock to search the cells for the child. If they run true to form they will take every opportunity to frighten her first before she is given to a client; a very young virgin will, after all, command a high price and the women who run these places are more interested in getting the right client with the right price than anything political. We should perhaps have a secondary plan in Froggie as a er _Jeuness d'oree_ looking for a pretty girl who needs appropriate punishment. Who are these youths? Aristos who have been in hiding?"

"Yes, for the most part" said Sir Percy "A disgrace to their birth. Aristocrats' sons, allied with the bourgeoisie with whom they would scorn to ally before trouble drove them together; those who seek revenge for the Terror rather than merely thanking God that it is over."

"Revenge is a very basic human instinct; below the level of civilised behaviour like thanking God or forgiving" said Chauvelin "And when all of the higher and nobler feelings of humanity are stripped by stark terror and degradation it is not unreasonable that the baser motives and instincts come to the fore; which of course is why the Terror happened in the first place because of the degradation of the masses over generations that had ground out, for the most part, any of the nobler instincts to which humanity may aspire. A beaten dog will bite."

"Yet they had their childhood training; and should rise above it" said Sir Percy grimly "They have not the excuse of the peasantry."

"I appreciate your point Sir Percy; but you fail to grasp what LIVING the terror is. You have spent months at a time in France; but you have not ever been a Frenchman, with no, or little, hope of escape; you become a terrorist or you become the terrified. The terrified have had the chance to turn terrorist; it is not step taken by consulting their training. They have forgotten that. You call them gilded YOUTHS; therefore they may have been mere children, old enough to hate, too young not to be degraded. They, in their way, are victims too."

"Well, I have to say I never thought I'd hear the day you defended those who persecuted Jacobins" said Percy.

"Perhaps I understand them uncomfortably well" said Chauvelin softly. "But you have my wholehearted co-operation to rescue this child. When is the tide?"

"I allowed an hour to cajole Froggy into letting me have Peter before we must travel" said Percy.

"Then let us swiftly pack and be on our way" said Peter "We can discuss details on _The Day Dream_."

"I told you she was a true member of the League, didn't I?" said Froggie, dropping a proud arm about his sister's shoulders.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25 On the Daydream**

Marguerite had scarcely known that The Viscount Frogham had a sister; some talk perhaps of a chit still in the schoolroom; it had been a shock to be told by Percy that this self same chit had travelled dressed as a boy to France, and carried out orders with the fortitude not only of a boy but of a young man years older than she indeed was; and that this same chit had engaged Armand Chauvelin's love – not the passion and desire he had once felt for the actress Marguerite St Just, but true, protective love; and that the girl loved him. She had been half inclined to expect a hard, cold unfeeling and scheming wench as a foil for the man who had caused her so much misery; the merry-eyed, child-like and gay reality who was as boyish as she was feminine was a surprise; and the way the child's eyes wandered to regard Chauvelin betrayed the adult feelings that had overcome the child. And Chauvelin! He scarcely looked like Chauvelin; she had always associated Crassus in the play of 'Julius Caesar' by Shakespeare with Chauvelin, for his 'lean and hungry look'; yet this contented looking man with a faint smile at his lips was nothing like the Chauvelin she knew and hated! And he had tried to shut down the abominable place of which he had spoken – should NEVER have spoken in front of her, let alone a child like Petronilla, or Peter as the girl preferred to be called; yet this child Peter, with horror and disgust in her eyes nodded quietly, listened to his outrageous suggestions, and made a black jest about pretending to be the man's daughter! And the plan was one that would work; if it were right to submit a young girl to such!

She spoke to Peter quietly.

"The men have no right to ask you to go through with so degrading a plan; there must surely be other ways!"

Peter cocked her head on one side.

"But none that will work so well, Lady Blakeney. Armand knows how these fiends think; and so knows how to out-think them. What is a little degradation compared to the life of a young girl – maybe more than one – and the prevention of her finding out in the cruellest way possible the depths to which men can sink?"

"My God!" said Marguerite "Surely you do not know from personal experience of such depths?"

"No Lady Blakeney; I am glad to say I do not. But if I suffered such I know that Armand would still love and cherish me and so I could afford to be strong. But he warned me – you know I was interrogated? – that the man who arrested me took pleasure from pain and fear; that I would know to feign more pain and fear than I felt to satiate him. I am in the ironic position of owing my escape from worse than a bruised face and a little humiliation to the members of the Directory; and it was well worth it to see my Armand's face when I returned to him and to find out that he cared for me. I know you have reason to feel nothing but hatred for him; but in truth I hope that if you cannot forgive you can at least find it in you to be understanding that I love him and to be civil to him for the sake of the aid he can give to the League. For I fear he will find that the Directory are permitting themselves to be run roughshod over by these gilded youths and will be bullied into acceding to the demands that a king be crowned; at which point, Armand has sworn that he will no longer be a Frenchman. And there will ever be innocents to snatch from misery while any of us live."

"I fear you are correct in that" said Marguerite sadly "Percy declared that with a moderate government the Republic had a chance to sort itself out and settle down and that the League would become superfluous after a last couple of grand gestures to rescue Chauvelin and the other Jacobin youth and his wife. But it looks as though those hopes were vain ones; and we who are wives must wait at home for the months on end of fear for our menfolk" she finished bitterly.

"Personally I was planning on taking a far more active role than waiting aimlessly behind" said Peter. "Froggie HAS raised me to be a brother more than a sister; and I must use all that this has taught me to do what I can for the helpless. After all, I CAN draw someone's cork as well as any boy – well those I can reach, in any case – and show with gaiety in a mill. I just tend to go down sooner than a boy I think, if Froggie forgets and hits me hard enough to darken my daylights. And I know all the appropriate language too. He took me to a mill once" she added conversationally "Dressed in his old clothes. It was disappointing; all milling and no science. I got bored. So did Froggie; he wagered he could take on either of them. Lud, the state of him; but he won his wager."

Marguerite was not sure whether to be shocked or amused by the naïve pleasure the girl took in recounting her brother's prowess. She was a sweet little thing, so totally natural; and yet so entirely unconventional!

"You must not speak of such things in company you know!" she said.

"Oh no! But you are League" said Peter, simply.

-/-

On the _Day Dream_ Chauvelin turned to Peter.

"I must bruise you, ma mie" he said "Unless Sir Percy has make-up to simulate it at close quarters that will not smear if they take her by the arm where I might expect to have put bruises."

"Not that I can guarantee will not smear" said Percy "Peter, are you ready to go through with this?"

Peter shrugged.

"What are bruises? Papa used not to have any patience over minor complaints of bruises if either of us took a tumble from a horse, though he was tender enough in concern if it were a real injury, like the time I sprained my wrist. THEN he told me off for falling awkwardly" she grinned ruefully.

Chauvelin nodded.

"Then I shall take my recalcitrant wife so, and I would shake her perhaps in frustration; gripping tight enough to leave the marks of fingers" he took her by the upper arms. She peeped under her lashes at him.

"Why you are masterful, milord!" she said. Chauvelin gasped.

Percy regarded the scene with interest. It was not the rough usage of her that aroused the man, but his beloved's apparent enjoyment of it; well, that removed any last vestiges of doubt. Chauvelin used what means he deemed necessary; causing pain was not something he enjoyed. And his eyes burned now with pain that he had increased his grip to the level that hurt; that Peter was trying to hide from him.

Chauvelin released her.

"Ma mie, I am sorry" he said. She took his hand and cupped it between hers, holding it to her face.

"Do not be sorry"she said "We do what we have to do; you know I am strong enough to accept it. Even as we all accept that if any one of us is captured, the mission is the priority and any rescue comes second. Now, we leave it to the chief to devise a way out of the place once I have released the girl; and any other innocents in there."

"Removing one is hard; taking more….."said Percy

"Has not the league rescued whole swathes of people before?" said Peter "Would not the league be shamed if it took one innocent and left others to the same fate when the way in has been made?"

"Creeping past the Procuress with one is one thing; young girls are noisy. To get past her and her guards with all…" said Percy.

"We shall get past them just fine if they are all dead" said Peter. "Those who would do such things to a child are not human; and it too sends a message."

"The League saves life; it does not take it" said Percy "It was the idea that flawed humanity should choose to determine who lived and who died that made us form the League in the first place; I will not sit in judgement on my fellow beings."

"More ways than one to skin a cat" Chauvelin murmured quietly to Peter; inaudibly to the rest.

"We are then to walk out the front? It is bold, but is it not too bold?" asked Peter.

"I do not know if we shall be lucky enough to find a back way out; the place is purpose built, has no windows that any girl might escape from, only skylights on the upper floor" said Percy.

"I have been through the place though" said Chauvelin "And there is a coal cellar that is served by the street behind. A delivery of coal, under a tarpaulin; with a short ladder for the girls to climb and an athletic fellow like Froggie to drop down to help any who were too hurt to climb; a collection might be made more than a delivery. The coal cellar is next to the torture chamber."

"Ah, brilliant!" said Peter "to which I let myself back in, and are ready in misery and stark terror to be a good and compliant bride to my husband lest he brings me back again. He takes me out; we leave; they are, until they next check, unaware that the chickens have been spirited out of the coop by an old Jacobin fox and his vixen. Eh voila!"

"Damn, it has the charm of simplicity" said Percy "And the simpler the plan the less there is to go wrong; if I retire, Chauvelin, I shall have to hand leadership of the league to you!"

Chauvelin gave a wry smile.

"I believe your methods may have rubbed off on me" he said "I am no fool; and I have learned, methinks, the way you do things. And a coal heaver is one of your favourite alter egos."

"Useful; I'd hardly say favourite!" laughed Percy. "Of course I am hoping to find the girl and her mother still safe at their last place of concealment; so that this becomes unnecessary. But I fear to hope that over much is to be too sanguine."

"I fear you are right" said Chauvelin. "Who fathered the child? To know is to have some idea of specific enemies."

Percy hesitated.

"I would have you know that I would try to rescue this child if she were the daughter of Robespierre himself" he said.

"Nobody doubts that" said Chauvelin dryly "Ah; the child then is Antoine St-Just's child? You fear that we might think you go only because she is a little cousin of your wife? I should condemn you if you did NOT go more willingly to save a relative than a stranger."

Percy took a deep breath.

"Even so; her mother was an actress; she wrote to Marguerite as a colleague and as a cousin of the child. Somewhere she had heard that my wife was in contact with the Scarlet Pimpernel."

"Probably St Just mentioned it; it was not unknown that I used Armand St Just as bait for you. You have considered have you not that this might be so much bait again? That the Directory wish to succeed where the Terror failed to lay the English Spy by the heels? It would be a great political coup for them. A sweet innocent young girl about to lose her innocence in the cruellest way imaginable, who is also a relative of your wife. What could be a better way to bring Sir Percy Blakeney running than to come up with a story like that?"

"You, my friend, could concoct such a story; but did you not hold the secret of my identity to yourself in order to safeguard yourself?"

"I did; but after the affair of little Capet – on whom I wish no ill so long as he is not to be the centre of plots – it is quite likely, because of the involvement of Lady Blakeney, that others suspected, guessed or merely worked it out. That Armand St Just was associated with the League became common knowledge. That he has a sister is common knowledge. That she might be expected to use her influence with her brother if nothing else to contact the Scarlet Pimpernel is a reasonable conjecture. I say, proceed with every caution with your eyes open, and an awareness that there may be traps. Which I too wish to consider because suddenly my betrothed wife's life is potentially in greater danger; suppose, for example, there are armed guards on the floor where the girls are held in their cells? When she goes with the skeleton keys I presume you have access to, in order to release one or more girls, what is she to do if she comes face to face with guards? These things must be considered."

"If I distract the Procuress by a fit of shrieking when she leads me into this torture chamber you shall conceal a bundle with a kirtle, mob cap and bottle of drugged wine because I presume there is furniture of er, sorts" said Peter "That I may pose as a maid sent to bring wine to the guards. It must be strong enough to have them all sleeping quickly; spirits perchance, rather than wine to conceal it being laced with a huge amount of laudanum. You must demand a two hour stay for me, to give me time to accomplish all, cherie, because I shall need the time to help any injured ones down to the coal cellar. If Sir Percy truly delivers coal mayhap there can be some problem with the trapdoor sticking that will permit greater time to be spent there than would normally be the case to allow for unforeseen events. If all goes well, I shall have the girls ready to climb out within twenty minutes of being taken in. If I have to drug guards I shall have to wait for the drug to take effect, at least enough to finish off their descent into the arms of Morpheus with a rap on the head; if there are no windows there are bound to be stray candlesticks to use as a makeshift weapon."

Chauvelin nodded.

"Perfect ma mie" he said "Can you find flaw in it Sir Percy?"

"No, actually I cannot" said Sir Percy "You are a talented pair when working together."

"I don't know how they do all that brain work and so fast too!" said Froggie. "I prefer just to do as I'm told."

"Your job is to squat on the coal and look like a hero" said Peter.

"Jolly good!" said Froggie cheerfully "Not too sure about looking like a hero all covered in coal dust but I'll bally well do my best, wot!"

"If it is a trap" said Chauvelin "They will look for a big man; the Scarlet Pimpernel is known to be able to disguise everything save his height. There may be other guards overlooking the coal cellar. It would not normally be a way of ingress; all such cellars have heavy bolts on the inside of the door. But I would watch it. If Lady Blakeney wishes to take an active role, perchance the sharp eyes of a ribbon seller say might see if any lurk within the back street."

Percy laughed.

"They will need a cleaner; a bovine type. Typically what I should have done would be to arrange to bribe their current cleaner and odd job man to desert by bribing him and thence to pose as a man looking for work, too stupid and desperate to care if that involves cleaning up after…." He tailed off with a grimace. "Now if I subvert the cleaner and persuade some big fellow to take the job, they will have their eyes on him. You, part of business as usual, will pass unnoticed; because you are not a big fellow. And nor, once stripped to her shift, is Peter to be believed to be the most youthful boy in my band. My big fellow may spend a few uncomfortable hours under suspicion and being questioned; but he will be able to say that he was hired by a man as big as himself to do this, will NOT have a brand on his forearm and will not know a word of English. Even the Terror would not have dared send such a nonentity to the guillotine; which was why I lighted on Rateau as the perfect double. He was well known as a man of the people. HOW I loved the good Rateau as a persona!"

Chauvelin shuddered.

"How that cough irritated and horrified me both at once!" he said. "I shall draw out a plan of the place if I may have paper and ink; Peter, you shall learn it by heart."

"Yes milord" said Peter demurely.

-/-

As Chauvelin bent over the paper he said quietly,

"I agree that such animals are deserving of punishment. So one thing I shall be leaving is a letter addressed to the Procuress, thanking her for her co-operation; and a large quantity of English gold – if you can arrange that. I fear I am penniless."

"I'll borrow some from Froggie" said Peter "He won't ask stupid questions. I like it. You are good at sleight of hand?"

"Extremely" he grinned "And I shall use that too to conceal your bundle of maid's clothes. I'll put a knife in with them too for your added protection, ma mie; no need though to trouble the nobility of Sir Percy with that."

"For my protection I doubt he'd protest actually" said Peter. "Only if he thought I was going on a wholesale killing spree; which I confess I had rather not. I think it would be rather unpleasant. But I am not so foolish as to think that sometimes it might actually be necessary. I doubt the guards asked for such an assignment; they may even dislike the concept and to kill them would be unfair. It's only those who are in charge I'd like to see punished."

"Ah, ma mie, they will be" said Chauvelin "And they will doubtless also be blamed for employing a tool of the Scarlet Pimpernel if he arranges a large odd job man for them. They will not get away lightly."

"Good" said Peter "I feel indignant enough already; and judging from Sir Percy's blenches I shall feel even angrier by the time we have extracted those poor girls!"

-/-

"Do you think it is a trap Percy?" Marguerite asked her husband.

"Not for one moment" he said, kissing her "Chauvelin is overly suspicious; though having been up against me for so long, it's scarcely surprising. I shall, however, act as though it is a trap; we go ahead in any case but take the extra precautions as a matter of course. Just because I do not believe it is a trap does not mean that I am correct; and if it is I prefer to spring it with my eyes well open. For the next question, I do not believe that Peter will be in any real danger. Some distress, undoubtedly; but not danger. If there are an excess of guards I leave it to her resourcefulness to drug them. I doubt there will be. There will be a couple of guards who are in charge of guarding the Procuress when food is taken to the girls; and otherwise rest until the evening when the place is properly open, to manhandle any spirited girls attempting to fight back, or to manhandle any clients who are getting over enthusiastic. It is run for a profit; engaging the level of guards considered necessary for a proper prison, and those good enough to maintain a proper level of alertness, would eat into those profits. There will be no trouble with guards so long as it is no trap."

Marguerite nodded, pacified; at least if it were a trap her husband was forewarned and forearmed.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 The Terror is over long live the Terror**

Paris!

The Terror itself might be gone; but there was a new terror, the terror of being accused of being too close an adherent of the terrorists, of being too good at being an adherent of the previous regime! Now the neat, dark clothes of a doctor, a lawyer or a man of letters was no longer a sign of an aristo, but even so was not wholly safe; for though there was no more beating up of custom for the guillotine, yet those who obeyed the decree of moderates in rule to go out to remove all possible sources of terrorism might just turn out to be as immoderate as the ragged screaming sans-culotte mob of Robespierre's time. It was not now the guillotine that ruled, but gangs of youths, out to beat up or kill anyone who might be a Jacobin. Neat clean garb had once been a cause of derision; now it was acceptable but did not preclude the wild untamed gangs from stopping people and demanding to know their affiliations. The poorest shuffled about their daily affairs, mostly confident that it was not they that these gilded youths wanted to torment, but those who had lead the mobs; but still there was unease. Whispers asking what was to come of the republic, was the dream of liberty at an end were cautiously voiced; and none dared answer them.

The small band who had come to rescue a young girl lay snug in an apartment, Marguerite and Peter sharing one room, the three men in the other. And if Chauvelin felt uncomfortable sharing a room with the English sportsmen he put up with it with his characteristic stoicism. And perhaps too Percy was gentler with him after Froggie had spoken to him privately with his characteristically inarticulate kindness, that Armand had a brute of a father, a big bully of a man, wot. And in that short sentence, Percy read more into Chauvelin's initial dislike of him and of the breed of sportsmen than Froggie was able to explain, for all that he was dimly aware of it. Froggie found Chauvelin's quick brain and helpful comments about his own lands helpful; and the way he could stop Peter from going into a tirade with just a word Froggie thought little short of miraculous! They owed much despite to Chauvelin; but as Froggie said, there was little to reconcile the man living in freedom with the chained and beaten hound in France.

And Chauvelin was taking delight in the planning and execution of this rescue, his thin hands moving to point on the plans he had drawn out points of possible weakness, rehearsing Peter relentlessly until she could describe the route she must take without the plans in front of her, describing the doors, the stairs.

"You are blessed with a total recall, Armand old man" said Percy.

"Yes I am" said Chauvelin "It has proved useful more than once; and saved my life once over being foiled by you, for I had previously glanced at a document on a certain desk – having a facility to read upside-down is also useful – and in being able to quote it convinced Robespierre that a copy existed in my possession that it would be embarrassing to have revealed. It was something he was throwing away, with other such documents; a letter written by Philippe Egalite, the ci-devant Duc de Orleans, in the days when they were on friendly terms, thanking Robespierre for his promise that his family should retain their titles. The Duc went to the guillotine with other moderates of course; with the bravery that recalled to so many of us a certain interfering Englishman. And I have to say that place filled me with a fascination of horror that nothing else has ever done; I will recall it to my dying day if I but concentrate. Such a load I hate to put on Peter; and nor would I an she had not the strength to bear it. I should not place my worst enemy in such a place."

Percy had gone out as he was wont to do quietly and in some disguise and returned with the disquieting news that both mother and daughter were gone from their hidden apartment and the place had been sealed. He had effected an entry by means of hot knife under the wax that held the seal across the door's opening; in case they had been sealed within to starve; but they were gone.

"This afternoon then" said Peter calmly "We are as ready as we shall ever be; Froggie should be back soon with news that he has a cart and coal."

Froggie and Marguerite turned up almost together; Froggie a disreputable creature in sabots and covered in grime; Marguerite a pretty but not too clean ribbon seller.

"No sign of untoward activity" said Marguerite "Nobody lurking in doorways, nor at windows. I believe you are right, Percy, and Chauvelin is indeed more careful than is needful."

Chauvelin shrugged his thin shoulders.

"Believe me, Lady Blakeney no-one will be happier than I to be proved wrong; it means less risk to Peter" he said.

She nodded; yes, it was just his natural caution, no desire to cause undue fear.

-/-

They were to set off late that afternoon; late enough for the inmates of that dread house to be stirring yet not so late that there would be the usual clients arriving ere they had finished. The coal cart would follow them after some half an hour; allowing its speed of travel to be greater than their walking pace. Chauvelin sported a wart on the side of his nose and another on the eyelid, that had necessitated his total trust in Percy's skill in makeup. Percy had congratulated his fortitude – applying the warts was a painful business – and admired his handiwork with a laugh and the comment that nobody would recognise him as Chauvelin, Chambertin, or even Camembert and that he looked closest to Oliver Cromwell if he resembled anyone at all.

"Ah, a good republican at least" said Chauvelin. "If sadly over devoted to his own strange brand of religion."

"You do look a sight" said his betrothed candidly. "And with your hair draggling loose around your face like a dying duck in a thunderstorm nobody would ever recognise you; it spoils your good looks entirely."

"Different necktie however" said Percy "Egad, my dear chap anyone could pick you out by the characteristic and sloppy cravat you always wear."

"It looks neat and understated to me; nobody would look at it twice surely?" said Peter.

"Froggie, your sister's education is sadly lacking" said Percy "Nondescript it certainly is; but in a sadly recognisable fashion. And any man with any pretence at fashion WOULD look at it twice because it's so dire he would want to set it to rights. I'll put you the sort of knot a lawyer who would like to be fashionable but can't quite manage it would tie old man."

"On such matters you are the expert, Sir Percy" shrugged Chauvelin "And really I have no ambitions to wear a fanciful necktie."

"Really though old man, perhaps you'll let me show you a few moderate but at least more up to the minute knots before the season" said Froggie "He does have a point; there are things that a fellow can't permit in anyone wanting to dance with his sister."

"You may as well put up with it dear" said Peter gloomily "If I'm to be martyred on the altar of fashion and have to have more gowns than I can possibly see me wearing in one lifetime you may as well suffer for it as well. We can be stoic; it will only last a few months. Sir Percy must have his revenge on me for my deception of him."

"What do you mean Peter?" demanded Percy. She shrugged.

"Having to put up with doing this season; oh I'll survive your punishment and I shan't make too much complaint."

"La my dear, a season is hardly a punishment; 'twas but a condition I imposed on Armand here that you should be exposed to the world lest you find another you preferred. Surely you are looking forward to the balls, the routs?"

Peter sighed.

"Everyone keeps telling me I am an unnatural female; well perhaps I am. I don't much like dancing; I consider parties for any reason than to celebrate some event to be a waste of time and frankly tedious; and none of the people there have any conversation."

"Hardly surprising when all you'd talk about at that rout in York was ruddy Newcomen and his engine" said Froggie.

"Well at least Armand has been able to explain that to me" said Peter. "I suppose if there are any naval people there I shall now be able to talk about trajectories, fall of shot and navigation."

"My dear child, it was never meant as a punishment" said Sir Percy. "But I urge you to go; you may yet enjoy yourself. Froggie can bring you back home early if you find it too tedious, will that suit?"

"Splendidly" said Peter. "And we need not have as many gowns made up then but I can get more if he insists if I decide to stick it out all through. Or take apart the ones I have and make them over to look different!" she said, beaming on Froggie.

"It's all very well for YOU to laugh Armand; but you're not responsible for the chit yet" said Froggie gloomily as Chauvelin dissolved into helpless laughter at the expressions on the faces of the assembled company.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 A Den of Iniquity**

"She does not seem to understand that the daughter of a wanted criminal like that vile Jacobin, Chauvelin, should show becoming humility to a patriot ready to marry her and give her his name and home" said Chauvelin to the Procuress "And I know that you provide a….. chastening service."

"Two louis an hour" said the woman.

"Two louis an hour? I only want to hire the room, not entertainment in it" said Chauvelin. The woman shrugged.

"Take it or leave it."

"What say you to three louis for two hours?" he suggested.

"Two louis an hour."

Four louis! Enough to feed a man and his wife for four weeks if they were frugal!

"It's daylight robbery" he grumbled. The big woman shrugged again.

"For a compliant wife, don't you think it's worth it?" she said.

"I suppose so…. Well, wife, this is your fault; you shall have to make the money go further for the next month or two to make up for it."

"I never asked to be your wife you ugly creature!" said Peter sullenly.

"Well you're lucky" he seized her chin to turn her face up to his "You might have been sent to work in this place if I hadn't made an offer for you. I hope the lesson will be a salutary one!" he dug into his purse and paid the woman.

"Come on you" she said, seizing Peter by the arm.

"I may see what…..?" asked Chauvelin.

"Come along by all accounts, citizen; then you can ask her which of the delights in my chamber of dreams she would like to sample if she shows you disrespect another time" she said with a cruel laugh.

Somehow the description was almost more chilling than the thought.

The chamber was in the basement; and it stank of blood and fear. Peter could not begin to guess at the uses of all the instruments in there; and nor did she wish to. She screamed. The woman shook her like a dog.

"Oh we can give you plenty more to scream at dearie. Now take off your overgown; if you don't I'm capable of doing it for you."

Peter took off her kirtle; just a thin shift was beneath.

"Why must you take my gown?" she asked.

"Bless you dearie, to humiliate you of course!" said the woman "Was there any piece of equipment you wanted her strapped to, citizen?"

"No thank you; I should rather she had the opportunity to permit her natural curiosity full rein and wander round to examine it all" said Chauvelin suavely. His face was closed and tight; it made him look cold and somehow reptilian but Peter knew that he was holding himself in tight control. "A couple of hours in here – with the sconces lit I think so she can see enough to imagine all she needs to – should bring her to her senses."

The woman laughed again.

"It's broken the pert wills of plenty in their time" she said. She ushered Chauvelin out; and the big wooden door clanged shut on the lone girl.

-/-

Peter tried hard not to look at anything in too much detail; and if it was cowardly then she must be a coward not to lose her nerve. She went to the place where Chauvelin had pushed the bundle down; and quickly dressed, removing the lockpick from her hair before putting on the mob cap. Percy had coached her thoroughly in its use; and if she took longer getting out of the massive door than he would have done she got through it, and pushed it to behind her. Carrying the wine – just in case – she went on.

The coal cellar door was large and dirty; and thoughtfully she eased the bolts back before going on. They might have to get out of sight in there in a hurry. She hurried back up the stairs and slid past the open door to the reception room where Chauvelin chatted to the monstrous Procuress; and on up the stairs.

-/-

The first floor contained private rooms where clients might take individual girls; she felt no urge of curiosity to investigate. The concept of tawdry opulence, such as the rest of the place seemed to display, allied with straps and chains and who knew what else was rather too loathsome to contemplate.

The next flight of stairs was less ornate; this led to the rooms, or cells, in which the girls were held.

There were six of them; two gazed on her without interest; one lay moaning on a pallet; one sobbed quietly on her mean bed; another lay close to the door made of bars with her hand through the bars to grasp a tiny hand that reached equally though the next set of bars.

"Citizeness Louise? Leonie?" Peter went over and squatted down "I'm here to rescue you; you will have to let go of each other so I can unlock the bars."

"To rescue us? You are from the Scarlet Pimpernel?" the woman Louise looked up. She was a mass of bruises.

"Even so; Marguerite waits to greet you" said Peter. The name of the child's cousin should be a password of sorts.

"Leonie, you hear? Let go of me sweetheart, let the citizeness let us out!"

"No! I will not let you go, maman!" cried the child.

"You'll look a bit silly escaping with only one hand because I crush it in the door when I open it" said Peter crisply "Unless you like this place and want to stay."

"No! No! But they have hurt maman!"

"They'll hurt her – and you – more if you don't let go this instant and stop putting your maman's life in danger" said Peter. "There is little time to get you out; let go, or stay in the cell."

"Let go Leonie" said her mother.

The little hand was reluctantly withdrawn.

"I'll have her out in a brace of shakes then I'll be back for you" said Peter, plying her lockpick. She left Leonie to make her own way out, certain that the child would try to cling again to her mother and hamper her work. By the time the little girl had fearfully crawled out, the next cell was open and the child flung herself on her mother.

"They showed her some of the things that can be done…. On me" said Louise "I'm soiled goods; damaging me did not matter. What must we do? I cannot walk far."

"Nor can the ones that lie on their beds sobbing" said Peter grimly "This is a harder task than I thought."

"Lucille will walk if she has to; it is Estelle who is going to find it hard" said Louise "The bastard who had her last made her dance on hot coals for him. The other two have been here so long I don't know if they have the will to escape; one of them is a milady who was placed here before even Marat was assassinated. The other refused the advances of a section chief."

"Then they will be used to obeying orders at least" said Peter, busy on the locks of the other cells. She recoiled at the stanch of the feet of the girl who was burned; and turned to the listless two. "You two, pick her up; one under the arms, one by the legs. Look lively now; and stay silent" and she went to the one who was moaning gently. "Lucille; here is rescue. I am sent by the Scarlet Pimpernel for you all" she said "If you can walk at all you must; because I cannot carry you."

The girl groaned and turned round.

"Why you are a very child!" she said.

"Not so much as Leonie" said Peter grimly "Can you manage?"

"Honey, I SHALL manage if it means escape from here" said Lucille.

"Brave one!" said Peter "Leonie, my little brave one, you must help maman; I will support her on the other side, but I shall at whiles have to leave her to you while I scout ahead."

The child's eyes were too large in her peaked face; but she nodded.

"We are really to escape? I am sorry, I did not take it in at first" she whispered.

"I know little one; it was why I had to speak sharply and unkindly to you" said Peter. She did not much like the look of Louise who was a ghastly colour and her shift was much soaked in blood. Peter feared that she was bleeding within; and that only the protective urges of a mother kept her going; for her daughter.

"Leave me if it impedes the escape" gasped Louise "They can do little more to me."

"We all go" said Peter as Leonie grasped convulsively and fearfully at her mother "You will at least be free; Marguerite will care for her little cousin."

Leonie gave a little cry.

"What do you mean? Do you mean my maman is going to die?"

"Yes Leonie; I think she is" said Peter "And with your quiet assistance she can do so in comfort with you at her side. Else if you make a row she will die harder for what they will do. You are a big girl able to be told unpleasant things."

"You can talk! You are not going to lose your maman!"

"My maman died when I was a baby; my papa when I was your age" said Peter. "Would you rather I lied and said she was going to be fine, and then let the grief be worse when you find I have lied?"

Leonie's eyes filled with tears. Peter gave her a brief hug; the poor child had been through so much; and had still the grief of loss to come. She supported Louise as best she might for the young woman was tall like Marguerite Blakeney, though virtually a bag of bones from worry and privation.

Leonie, quietly sobbing, helped on the other side; and somehow they got down the first flight. Peter gritted her teeth and went into one of the bedrooms; and grabbed up bedsheets and some rope. She went to Estelle, whose feet were burned.

"I am going to wrap you in the sheet and tie you up like a Christmas goose" she said "And see if we can't slide you down these shallow stairs with a rope as a break. Leonie, I shall do the same to your mother; but will you be a good girl and go down to the half landing and peer through the banisters and let me know if any comes?"

Leonie gave a look at her mother, who managed a nod; and went to do as she was bid. Peter lowered both women herself as far as the half landing to show the less badly injured but cowed women how to do it; then bade them lower them the rest of the way while she crept down. The door was now shut; doubtless her Armand had contrived that, perhaps mentioning a draught. It was covered with green baize, to muffle the sounds of screams no doubt. She went back to assist the brave but agonised Lucille and to ease the final descent of the two women who were wrapped in sheets. There was another baize covered door to negotiate; the one that led down to the basement.

"Citizeness! That only goes to that bad room!" whispered Leonie.

"And the coal shoot" said Peter. Leonie stared; then nodded. Peter went on, "I want you to run down and next to the bad room is a dirty door with the bolts already opened; open the door. There should be a man waiting; ask him to come and help me with your maman" she decided. She would get all the women the other side of this door at least; but the steep narrow stairs were harder. She told the two biddable ones to go on down and wait at the bottom; and they obeyed as unthinkingly and dully as before, holding each other's hands for support, the milady and the street wench, and impossible to tell which had been which.

The eager sounds of her brother's footsteps coming up the stairs two at a time was welcome.

"ZOUNDS!" he said, seeing the blood that had soaked through the sheet.

"Fortunately the stair carpet is red" said Peter dryly. "This is Leonie's mother; she is the priority. Estelle's feet are just about burned off. Lucille is badly beaten."

Froggie nodded; the information would enable him to choose the next priority; which would be Estelle. Lucille, after a rest, gave half a smile.

"I can go on" she said.

"I can support you now" said Peter.

"Don't leave me alone!" Estelle cried.

"My brother will be with you in two shakes" said Peter "I'll get Lucille down, and come back; I'll talk to you all the time if you like."

"Please, oh please; it hurts worse than anything else!" cried Estelle. "He said if I wouldn't dance on the coals he would place them on my belly until it burned right through!"

"Well I wonder if we can't serve HIM a bad turn when you are well enough to tell us everything you know about him" said Peter. "I am just round the corner; my brother is on his way up; you must hear his footsteps, and then you'll be out of here!"

Which would not, of course, stop the pain, she reflected; but Marguerite would know what to do. They would need a doctor out for these girls; mightily risky but these were no minor broken bones and contusions. And now Froggie was passing her and Lucille with Estelle in his strong arms. It was an advantage men had; but then she had been the one to get in. They all had their jobs and specialities. It might have been wise to have waited for Froggie and had him come up with her; but it was too late to consider that now. And now he was returning again and sweeping Lucille, half fainting, into his arms. Peter gave him a brief kiss on the cheek; and he was through the door, climbing the short ladder with one hand, Lucille over one shoulder. Peter watched him out, saw the ladder withdrawn by Percy; and swung the door shut and re-bolted it. She entered the other loathsome room, fiddled with the lock until it seemed to relock at least enough to give pressure to the key from without; and hastily stripped off the maid's kirtle and mob cap. There was blood all over her skirt; and some on the hem of her petticoat. Well doubtless blood in here was not uncommon; she should be able to have hysterics that she had knelt in a patch of blood. She firmly avoided looking at the instruments once more; and settled herself on the floor in a corner to wait. If she judged it rightly, the whole performance had taken close on an hour; the injured women had slowed up the escape. And that was why Armand had paid for two hours, so that she had not felt constrained to hurry and jeopardise the mission. Peter decided that she would rather be bored than too interested in what was in here; and shut her eyes. She should imagine her lover's arms around her and the sweet passion of his kisses to while away the time; and how she might give him back the upper hand that a man's ego needed; that being rescued by a maid – albeit only as part of the League – might have damaged; for in truth she had liked the concept of him being masterful with her in any case. And that had nothing to do with the nasty little men who liked to hurt; who must be very unsure of themselves that they must needs hurt those weaker than themselves. Armand had his uncertainties; it was what made him lose his temper on occasions. And unlike Fleurette, who readily gave in to the tigerish rages, Peter delighted in arguing; and then saying something ludicrous that took the wind out of his sails and led to him kissing her hard by way of ending the argument.

She beguiled herself with thoughts of Armand's kisses, firmly ignoring the stench of terror and blood; until she heard the key turn in the lock. She assumed a position cowering in the corner.

-/-

"Well my wife, have you seen all that you need to see?" said Armand.

"More than enough! Oh please, take me away from here!" cried Peter.

"Kiss my feet, wife, and beg that I be a husband to you in all particulars" said Armand. "And apologise for your misguided loyalty to anyone but me."

Peter flung herself at his feet.

"Oh yes; be a husband to me and never bring me here again!" she said "I will not brook you again; I will in sooth be loyal to only you, I am sorry!"

He bent and lifted her; and kissed her on the lips; a kiss made to look cruel as he grasped her bare shoulders; but in reality one of love and relief. She permitted herself to slump against him; then he let her go.

"Her gown?" he asked. The harridan passed it over.

"What is on your shift?" he demanded.

"Oh husband! I knelt in blood; it was horrible, horrible!" Peter let her teeth chatter. It did not take much.

"Well if you are a good wife to me, I shall buy you another, finer one" said he. "Come, dress quickly; I wish to be home before it is fully dark."

Peter dressed; and he took her arm to manoeuvre her out, nodding to the Procuress on the way. They made their way back to the lodging house quickly; the rescued women had been taken elsewhere, a location that only Sir Percy knew.

And then she cast herself on her lover's chest and sobbed about the horror.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28 Sir Percy has all in Hand**

It was some hours before Sir Percy Blakeney returned to the apartment; and he found Chauvelin with a tear-stained Peter asleep from exhaustion and emotion with her head in his lap.

"It was rather grim, wasn't it?" said Percy quietly "I'm not sure now I should have permitted her to do this."

"And if she had not would another plan have got there in time for either Louise to still be alive or Leonie yet a virgin, or… Estelle I think she was called not to be gangrenous?" said Chauvelin. "Dear God I hate people!"

"Say not so, Armand" said Percy swiftly, laying a hand on his arm "That led to you ready to avenge yourself on all, snarling like a very tiger; there are fiends who are hateful, but then even in the filth beautiful flowers grow. Hate the evil that is done by all means; but hate not all people. For in that path lies hating yourself; and if you hate yourself, you cannot even love Peter."

Chauvelin looked down at his sleeping lady.

"Oh you are right as always, Percy" he said "and I know that she would choose again to do the self same thing knowing how it hurt her to see such; because the ones she has rescued were hurt more and Peter has a heart bigger than France. But it is hard not to hate those who have made my darling cry."

"Where life is cheap and death commonplace, it is easy to lose respect for all others and to purchase life for a few livres" said Percy. "We can hope and pray that all settles down, that the directory will clamp down on these enthusiasts before they have a worse terror on their hands and as violent a counter-counter revolution. If I have the right number of counters in there."

"I was not counting; I know what you mean" said Chauvelin. "She will not stop at this you know; I fear she will either burn out through excess of grief or become hardened and inured as I became hardened and inured."

"There is a middle road" said Percy "I had to learn it myself. You have to learn to focus on a particular project; maintain compassion at all times; but not deviate. I acceded to her request that we take all; such a place demanded that we did so, and we were shamed an we did not. But you cannot usually take all. And if one dwells too much on that, one's heart is broken. When you held me for those seventeen days and would not let me rest you brought me Marguerite who was refreshment to my resolve rather than likely to break my spirit; something that now you understand" Chauvelin was nodding, stroking Peter's curls. Percy went on "Had you paraded before me the children of the courtiers whom I had not been able to rescue when I took out the Dauphin, THAT might have broken my heart and resolve. Had you offered me their lives for his, not mine. But I did not think of them; dared not think of them. They were not important enough for you to actually bother with as much as the Dauphin. Peter must learn to do likewise; and if she cannot then she will be drained of emotion. A strong and loving husband, like a strong and loving wife helps no end you know."

Peter stirred and shifted; and sat up.

"Oh!" she said "You are back; I must have slept a long time. Is Louise dying?"

Percy nodded.

"We have made her as comfortable as possible and given her as much laudanum as we can to dull the pain without dulling her last hours with her daughter" he said. "The doctor has had to cut off one of Estelle's feet but he thinks he can save the other. Lucille's wounds have been dressed. She was there for her loyalty; she was a maidservant of aristocrats who were executed who was delivered to that house shortly before Robespierre was arrested; she would like to be your maid, m'dear. I said I would ask you."

"Well if she wishes it, I should be honoured" said Peter "She is brave. The other two?"

"They will need to be cared for" said Percy "I am hoping, if you do start your hospital for foundlings, they may in time be trained to child care; being with children is a gentle occupation that would be no threat to them."

"Good; I knew you'd think of something" nodded Peter "You have a lot of experience. What is Estelle's background?"

"Estelle was a strumpet of the ordinary kind until she passed a remark that was overheard to the effect that there was no difference between any of those of the Mountain and any sans-culotte because they all er, took their recreation in the same way. One of the officials – I suspect someone like Desgas who has managed to hang on to his job dear knows how – decided that she should be punished by finding out how some men took their pleasures."

"Wretch" said Peter "I hope he gets into as much trouble or more for losing Armand as Armand used to do for losing you."

"Save that instead of threatening him with the guillotine, one of those precious moderates will decide he's a threat to them for his appetites and will have him quietly assassinated; for which deed they do not have to take responsibility" said Chauvelin.

"I find that I really do not care" said Peter "Does she know the identity of the man who caused her such hurt?"

"She has a shrewd idea; and I am not about to tell you" said Percy "I don't want you and Armand deciding that he should be er, discommoded."

"I don't think I want to" said Peter "At least not at the moment; I've seen too many horrid things to want to do any, though I must say I'm angry enough to hope something extremely unpleasant happens to him."

"I was considering calling him out" said Percy mildly.

"That would do well enough save that such does not have the honour to give a clean death on the sword to" said Peter. "But if there is no other way it will have to do. I'd be more inclined to forge evidence that he was a secret Jacobin and denounce him to the Gilded Youths. It is not something that needs doing in a hurry is it? Because unless you need me for anything I'm for my bed. I feel ridiculously tired."

"Emotion can take you like that" said Percy "No I need nothing; sleep well, Peter. You can visit your rescued ones in the morning. I have yet work to do; you both did an excellent job. 'Night Peter; 'Night Armand."

"Good night Percy" said Chauvelin.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29 Understanding**

It was unspoken by the League that they were waiting for Louise to die before moving on; Percy was active most of the time and other members of the League joined them; Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, Tom Galveston and others. The new so-called White Terror of the Gilded Youths and counter-terrorism called for their skills again. The two cowed women were to go into the care of Sir Andrew's gentle wife Suzanne; Froggie shrugged and said that if they were taking on Lucille, Estelle may as well come too, and be with someone she knew; and of course Percy and Marguerite were to adopt little Leonie. Sir Percy had decreed that Marguerite and Peter were to escort the women out of France; they were to travel in the guise of nuns, now permitted once more in France, with Armand Chauvelin as a male escort as a priest.

"Which is a role you have fitted so well before" said Percy. Chauvelin grimaced.

"I think we should do well to put that behind us" he said.

"You are right old man; I apologise" said Percy immediately.

"My father always said I should have been the second son because I was more suited to the seminary than court" said Chauvelin wryly. "I think he hoped when I attended the Sorbonne that I might be drawn to academe and take orders. Mind you I had my rebellion; I was supposed to be studying philosophy and managed instead to study some engineering. There is that in levers and engines that can do a fantastic amount of work beyond human muscles that is fascinating to a little man."

"Your father was a pig. No he wasn't either, I like pigs" said Peter. "He was…. Well I don't know any words bad enough, but if I did, he'd be them."

"How will we be taking Estelle?" asked Chauvelin, changing the subject.

"In a bath chair" said Percy "She's your reason for travel; a pilgrimage to pray for her well-being as she has been struck down by a wasting disease. You have only to hint at leprosy and I doubt anyone will want to search any of you too closely."

"Clever" said Chauvelin "It is still a disease that causes fear and loathing; though I wonder if Jenner's experiments into inoculation will one day come up with a way to prevent against even so dread a disease."

"It might have helped if so many brilliant men had not gone to the guillotine for the aristocratic crime of being cleverer than their fellows and performing experiments the mob did not understand" said Sir Andrew.

"Why do you think they hate me?" said Chauvelin "Because I'm cleverer than any of them; and too, unlike most men of science, I am worldly enough to manipulate the ones in power to keep my head – or I was until I lost it metaphorically over Fleurette – with a little genteel chantage… blackmail it is in English. And actually I should be content to be a refugee and hated by them if only they did right by France!" it was a cry of frustration.

"Well write and tell them so" said Peter "They can't hate you any more; tell them that they let the people of France down by permitting an opposite extreme to have such power. You could even sign it with a poem like Sir Percy does; er,

That demmed elusive Pimpernel

Has now got Chauvelin as well

Since the directory are such fools

They waste their most efficient tools" she rhymed.

"That's not half bad" said Percy. "Dangerous I suppose to write; but then it's dangerous to be here."

Chauvelin shrugged.

"Well if someone delivers it when I have the women safely on their way THEY won't be at risk from it; and if you acknowledge me it's another thing to strike a chill into their hearts and maybe – just maybe – make them improve what they are doing and stop this fresh wave of terror."

"What could they do bar institute counter-terrorism though?" said Marguerite "Though I agree they are weak to let it return to a form of mob rule."

"Madam, they could have issued a list of those Jacobins they thought most dangerous, to have brought to trial – on which list I should doubtless have appeared – and offered amnesty to all others providing they did not agitate for a return to a time of terror" said Chauvelin. "With specific targets to arrest, any who took action against others might then be subject to rule of law. They permitted a fear of terrorists to overcome them and consequently set up a new terror; which may yet become as stringent as of yore. They have let France down. Only through the League to help Frenchmen can I retain any pride in being French; and I am glad to be an enemy of the old women who are in power."

He spoke bitterly; and Percy laid a hand on his shoulder, and Peter took his hand. He laughed a short and rather bitter laugh.

"MMM?" said Percy.

"Ironic isn't it, that here I am, condemned to death in absentia, an exile, and happier than I've ever been" he said.

"Well don't let your disappointment towards those in office mar that old man" said Percy. Chauvelin was a deep and complex fellow; yet with all that had gone before, all the betrayal, even so he felt quite comfortable in entrusting the precious life of his wife to the man; for Chauvelin nowadays was permitting himself to analyse, to see clearly; to fight for ideals reawakened by Peter instead of permitting others to dictate to him what his ideals should be, whilst blinded by hatred.

-/-

Marguerite as always hated leaving Percy in potential danger; but she acknowledged that she had to be there for Leonie; and left her brave husband with as gay a smile as she could manage. She felt as bitterly as Chauvelin towards the Directory; for at the end of the Terror she had indeed believed that the time had come that her husband would return to her for good, and that they might settle down and start a family. Indeed she suspected that she might already be with child for being so confident as to look forward to her husband being a family man; and inwardly she sighed.

"I never thought I should ever be in accord with you, Chauvelin" she said "But that these moderates have proved weak is a sore disappointment."

"It is" said Chauvelin "And moderate should NOT mean weak; but now it will be seen to be synonymous. If there IS a God, he is angered with France. Though I do NOT believe it is over the execution of the king; I do not believe in the divine right of kings, and the English indeed abolished that concept with Charles I; their Restoration went smoothly enough, but then it was too early for a republic to truly work. In this age of reason it OUGHT to work; having once removed a king it should not become necessary to restore a monarchy. Had Louis Capet actually RULED and done the job for which he was paid a scandalously high amount, it would not have come to that; perhaps a revolution to force a constitutional monarchy such as the English have. But he was weak, foolish and interested only in his own pleasure; and the ci-devant queen was as stupid. She had no idea of the sufferings of the common folk; THAT was why they failed. And now this Directory seems to be insulating themselves as much as did the Aristocracy of old and the new and remnant aristocracy run roughshod over the commons once again. You do not trust me, Lady Blakeney, that I should work beside, instead of against your husband; for me perhaps it is an easier matter, having been used to the oft-times strange bed-fellows in the various revolutionary committees who must work together or be overthrown. But I give you my word that I do this with all my heart because now I see that your husband WILL risk himself for those of the gutter as well as aristos it is the only way I see to do anything for my poor France."

"I see" said Marguerite "It will be hard; but I will try to accept you, to put the past behind me."

"Thank you" said Chauvelin simply "No-one can ask for more."

"I would ask…. Have you sworn the oath of allegiance to Percy?" Marguerite asked him.

"I have not; he has not yet asked it of me" said Chauvelin "I believe if or when he does I shall be ready to do so. In the meantime, I am as ready as any to lay down my life for him; and by extension for his wife. I have not forgotten that I was born a gentleman; and that he has saved my life. Therefore it is his to command. I do not apologise for the rigours I have put you through, Lady Blakeney; I did what I perceived to be my duty to the full extent of my ability. For my loyalty to France the comfort and life of a spy and his family were of no moment. I apologise only for those times when personal feelings got the better of me and I acted beyond the necessary rigours of duty. I am not yet sure where duty ended and enmity began in all cases so the apology can only be a vague one. I am still in the process of finding out who I am; and who I have been. If you will accept that apology on those terms I will be most happy."

"I do" said Marguerite; who had never expected any kind of apology from Chauvelin at all. "And I will try also to forgive; but like your own self discovery it may take some time."

He nodded.

"I pride myself on being emotionless; but it is a lie" he said "everything I have done has been driven by anger; I cannot remember a time when I was not angry; and having to conceal it. I suppose some time before I came out of leading strings. Lady Blakeney, I beg you, if you have any children who are not such sportsmen as Sir Percy, do not let him show disappointment; he is, I think, too big a man to be violent towards them or to despise them; or at least, if he does I think he would not show it. But not all men are athletic. And he at least I think would appreciate any child with an academic turn of mind."

"Ah" said Marguerite in sudden sympathy "Your father must have been a brute; no wonder you turned inward and embraced hatred so easily."

"It was when he laughed at me for my choice of bride I think that I became a radical" said Chauvelin "Fleur, the daughter of a Marseillaise doctor. To marry a petit bourgeois; it was not something to forbid, but something to make a joke over; to tell it as a jest to my brother, to our cousin; listen to this, is it not funny, Armand actually suggests MARRYING a doctor's daughter; he must have caught the disease of Bourgeoisie from her. I did not find it funny. I struck my father; which was a stupid thing to do. When I came to I found that he had horsewhipped the doctor for expecting one of his betters to do better for his daughter than make her his mistress; and ordered them to leave the neighbourhood. I went too, and married Fleur. I do not tell you this for the expression of pity on your face, Lady Blakeney; I have no need of your pity. It is by way of explanation for, I hope, many things. Explanation. Not apology."

"I see" said Marguerite. "Peter knows this?"

"Yes; in the time I have spent under her brother's roof we have exchanged life stories. And bless the girl, she accepts me as I am. I would say, like the English Cromwell, warts and all save that she made faces at the artistic warts with which your husband has supplied me for the duration of this trip. I do hope that her probably misguided partiality for me will not cause you to feel a despite towards her?"

"I find Peter the sweetest creature" said Marguerite "Brave and merry as any of the League; and so sweet and in need of protection withal. I am content that you will give her all the protection she needs; though I confess it took me a while to see that bruising her was indeed for her own protection. It is not the protection most women crave that she needs and that you give her; and this I understand as MY husband expects more of me than of most women. I place myself, also, unreservedly into your protection."

He kissed her hand; it was a gesture from the past for so ardent a revolutionary; but it was a gesture that spoke deeper than words.

They were not friends; but they were allies.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30 Leonie**

Poor Leonie made a tear-streaked and subdued little novice; and had not Marguerite been her cousin she might yet have rebelled the necessity to move fast. Marguerite had promised that although they could not hold a proper funeral for her mother, there should at least be a memorial service; but there was a lot of resentment in the child.

"Why did you not come sooner?" she demanded, in a heartrending voice.

"Cherie, we left the moment your mother's letter came" said Marguerite "Stopping only to collect our friends who were necessary to help with such an escape; with the best will in the world, the wind cannot be made to blow harder to drive a ship faster, nor can horses gallop faster than their fastest. We arrived in Paris on the morning that we took you from that place in the afternoon; first ascertaining that you were no longer in the address your mother gave us. We are only human; it seemed long, four or five days for a message to reach to us, a further four for us to reach you; but nobody could have been there faster. Perchance if your mother had written one day earlier we might have reached you before she was hurt; but as she wrote that she had but then learned what fate was threatened, had she written a day earlier we should have had to spend perhaps several days trying to find you."

Marguerite held no blame for the pitiful scrap of humanity who cried out in such indignation that they had not come sooner; knew it was not ingratitude but a child's hurt that she has been let down by grownups who are only human and have no supernatural agency to put back the clock, or move faster than the wind. But the resentment, natural as it may be, had to be answered; Leonie must learn that it had been impossible to come faster, else she would become sullen and unmanageable, resenting her foster parents; and maybe become a danger to Percy's life if the resentment festered enough to find a childish revenge in betraying him, or indeed any of those to whom she owed her life and freedom. Marguerite spoke of Louise, a friend of hers, explaining that they would mourn her together.

"And you are related to my father?" the mite wanted to know.

"I am his cousin" said Marguerite. "I did not know him very well though."

"I did not see him often" said Leonie "He was a very pretty man; Mama was sad when they cut off his head but she did not cry so very much; he did not see us much after all."

Marguerite sighed. She doubted that Antoine St Just WOULD have seen much of a youthful peccadillo; he was just a boy, fourteen years old, when Leonie was born; Louise was some years older than Marguerite and had spoken to her of her handsome cousin, so sophisticated even though nothing but a schoolboy, such an ardent and admiring lover; and so shocked when the precautions failed and she became pregnant. Louise had concealed it of course, and had left Paris for a spurious family crisis in order to give birth, for the sake of her career; Leonie was raised by Louise's parents and then taken back into the actress' household and claimed as a foundling to be reared to be an actress when Louise's mother died. She had lost two mother figures; no wonder she clung to Marguerite!

-/-

Marguerite did not however like the way Leonie turned to Peter and said,

"Fetch me my wimple" as they were donning their disguise. Peter raised an eyebrow.

"I know that France has abolished courtesy, young lady; but in England you should learn that such things as 'please' and 'thank you' are considered rather necessary."

"Don't talk to me like that!" flared Leonie "I am to be adopted by an English milord and I shall be important!"

"Then the better to learn the manners of an English lady, not those of the pigsty" said Peter, coldly. "If you think I put my life at risk for you only to find you behaving like those we rescued you from without telling you what I think of such rag manners you can think again. And should you go into society, my fine wench, you will find that the adopted daughter of a Baronet does NOT in fact take precedence to the daughter of a Viscount; and frankly, I should consider it very ill bred to speak to a servant as you are speaking to me, let alone to a social superior. I suggest you apologise and ask Lady Blakeney to teach you some manners!"

Leonie stared; then turned to Marguerite.

"She is a servant isn't she? She was dressed as a servant!"

"And my husband, Sir Percy, was dressed as a coal heaver" said Marguerite "You are acting as a silly chit; do you think that we could rescue you without disguise? And frankly, my dear child, had a servant risked her life and sanity in the way that the Honourable Miss Holte risked hers for you, she would be also worthy of respect. You have little idea how a lady acts, methinks, if it seems to you that ordering people around is the correct way to go on. We shall have no more of this; you are a child, and at the orders of every member of this party from the Vicomte de Chauvelin down; for a lady would run errands willingly for the wounded of her party, those who were until recently your comrades in adversity. And whom you should respect for having suffered more than you. There is some excuse for bad behaviour in your grief over your mother; and for whom we all grieve because we could NOT be in time and feel such deeply. But you must learn to correct such behaviour, and lashing out at others is NOT a way to deal with your grief. It brings you down to the level of those who murdered your mother who like to hurt. Apologise to Miss Holte."

Leonie grit her teeth.

"I apologise, Miss Holte; I did not know you were a lady."

"I fear, Leonie, that I cannot accept that apology" said Peter quietly "Because my status is neither here not there. I cannot accept anything but an unconditional apology for rudeness. Had you spoken thus to Lucille or any of the others, you would have still had to make apology."

Leonie stared.

"But I thought in England there was no equality and that one had class distinction" she said.

"Oh yes; we do" said Peter "But there is never any excuse for discourtesy; and the higher born one is the less excuse there may be, for one has not the excuse of a poor education in courtesy. Do you not think that you are dishonouring your mother by speaking rudely? Would SHE have permitted you to speak in such a tone?"

Leonie flushed.

"No" she muttered "I am sorry."

"There's a good girl" Peter embraced her. "Your Maman is watching you from Heaven, sat beside le Bon Dieu; for she was an angel in life who gave her life for you. If you ever wonder how to behave, a little prayer, and a question to yourself, how would maman like me to behave will, I am sure give you the answer. Your life should be a memorial to her; so that all who see you recognise how well she has brought you up. There, shall I help you on with this horrid old wimple? Such nasty things, but they will get us out safe, as maman wished you to be safe" she said, picking up the wimple. Leonie submitted to her ministrations and Marguerite silently blessed Peter for both refusing to take a half apology and for finding the right words to say. Caring for Leonie was not going to be straightforward!

-/-

Peter spoke privately to Marguerite.

"If I don't mistake, she is going to want to wipe that whole period of her life as far as she can out of her memories; her rudeness to me I suspect was a means to belittle me, and so belittle the memory. It will be as well if she does not see any of the other women ever again; I fancy it would make her more angry than anything else and make her behave badly. Perhaps when she's about my age she may wish to speak with you about it, and purge it from her memory by sharing. Until then I suggest you let her speak or stay silent as she chooses. It must have been unbelievably traumatic."

Marguerite nodded.

"An experience that is too horrific for an adult to contemplate; let alone a child" she said. "But gentle as we must be, I am glad that you agree with me that bad behaviour cannot be condoned."

"It is the way to turn her into a spoilt wilful brat feeling that the world owes her" said Peter. "She must have sympathy, yes; but the understanding that terrible things happen and she is not the only one or she will dwell on her wrongs and see nothing outside them. And THAT leads to selfishness. Let her feel compassion, if you can draw her to it, for other children who have been orphaned; point out that she can feel a fellow feeling for them. She has had a good upbringing; and that may save her from too many troubles. So long as she feels wanted; and Marguerite, as you are glowing with what I assume is pregnancy, do involve her in the growth of the child within you so she feels a part of it, and not shut out. Woman to woman as it were."

Marguerite flushed.

"I – yes, that is a good idea. It shows?"

"Well I might miss my guess, but you do have a kind of inner contentment."

"I am not sure yet" said Marguerite "So I have said nothing to Percy; I pray you not mention it."

"I shan't" Peter gave Marguerite a kiss on the cheek. "And as congratulations are still a little premature I shall not tempt fate by giving them; but I hope that they will be due soon. And you must NOT go aboard ship without eating a little something too, because I have heard it said that the condition can induce nausea."

Marguerite laughed.

"Now Peter, when you are married and in the same interesting condition yourself you would flare up at me if I ever attempted to cosset you; so do me the goodness of not cossetting me!"

"I was being a bit of a mother hen, wasn't I?" laughed Peter "I apologise, unreservedly!"


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31 A Party of Sick Nuns**

A party of sick looking nuns including one who was 'losing her feet to a wasting disease' were hastily hustled through the barriers. They were jeered at – from a safe distance – that they should think that prayers and pilgrimage would do any good; but nobody tried to stop or search them. Chauvelin had come up with the idea of enlarging the wart on his nose in such a way as to pull up the nostrils, as though it had bled and healed as the nose started to be eaten away, a common effect in leprosy, and added sores to his nose and forehead. Estelle wore gloves – because her hands were said to be unsightly and sore – and Leonie had to suffer a few sores added to her face to explain a child's presence. Marguerite was the mother superior and Peter made a show of fumbling her papers because of the numbness in her fingers. The soldier checking her out – who had been leering rather a lot – promptly jumped back and assured her hastily that her documents were in order. And then the shabby pair of carriages they were in were on the way to the coast; stopping at secluded way places designated by Percy where they found food had been left for them, rather than stopping at inns where the stigma of leprosy might just get them summarily hanged; for though religion was permitted under the auspices of abjuring priests, the respect for those in orders had vanished utterly. The journey was arduous for those in pain; but Estelle was deeply drugged on Laudanum and Lucille smiled bravely and permitted Peter into bullying her into taking a drop or two of laudanum when her own pain was worst. Lucille was suffering from the cumulative effects of many whippings and other wounds; but she bore up bravely.

"Well, when you are my maid, my dear, you'll know when I want to pack in a hurry what I am about" said Peter to her, holding the girl's hand as the laudanum took effect.

"And I shall be able to come along and help" said Lucille firmly. "I could not help my poor mistress and her family; perhaps I can help others."

"Perhaps you can at that – WHEN your strength is regained" said Peter firmly, grinning to herself that Sir Percy was likely to enact something of a Cheltenham tragedy over the idea of having two active women in his band!

-/-

Apart from having to nurse the injured women – which Marguerite involved Leonie in, since they would have done as much for her or her mother as she firmly said – the journey was straightforward; and it seemed no time at all before they were on the _Day Dream_ bound for England.

Whereat Marguerite discovered that Peter's comments about nausea were most definitely of moment; and made herself eat some dry toast with weak tea until the feeling subsided.

Chauvelin gladly shed his warts and resumed his usual trim appearance; and Estelle screamed because she recognised him.

"Citizeness, I pray you be tranquil" said Chauvelin "I am scarcely in any case different to yours; a penniless émigré wanted for knowing too many of the wrong people. I have no political power in France or England; and I have turned my talents over to the self-same Scarlet Pimpernel whom I used to pursue so diligently since his ideals are purer than those I have found in those for whom I have worked. You have nothing to fear from me."

"I wondered if you planned any revenge on Citizen Desgas what was the one what cost me my foot, Citizen" said Estelle naively "And if you had any plan to use me." She added a few curse words to spice her speech.

"I did not; nor did I know who had caused your wounding. The Chief would not tell me in case I or Peter took it personally" said Chauvelin. "As you're to be Peter's maid with Lucille I do rather take it – and the fact that he has hurt her before – rather personally; but I bow to the will of the chief to leave such things well alone. Desgas turned his coat very successfully to that of the new regime; probably by selling everyone he knew to have had any Jacobin leanings to them. Well, if he has interests in the place I took you from he should be having a few problems right now; because an anonymous tip should reveal how they were paid by English gold to give up certain politicals."

"If they were paid, why then did Citizen Peter have to creep around?" asked Estelle.

"Because, my dear girl, they were not. The forgery and the gold I planted in the office of the Procuress should however convince the authorities that they were. Such places should be closed down; I tried to close it when I HAD got power, but too many people with more power had too many interests in it. And if you feel any gratitude to Peter, if I were you I should ask Lucille to teach you to speak with less coarseness; your upbringing was rough but there is no need for an excess of coarseness."

"You talk like an aristo."

"I was born an aristo; I abandoned my birth because I disapproved of its abuses. I disapprove equally of mob rule be it that of the sans-culottes or the jeunesses doree. I seek equality; dragging everyone down to degrade themselves with uneducated and lewd speech does not make true equality. When all have equal education and hold position equal to their ability then and only then will there be equality. It is probably an impossible dream; but to my mind education is the key to everything. Only politics always got in the way. Under Peter's roof you will learn to read and such skills of craft as you have not learned and shall read about whatever subjects interest you if you will, I am sure; Peter also believes in education. If you will it and work hard she will train you to become a schoolteacher as she plans to set up a foundling hospital; you do not lack wits. Indeed as I have heard, it was an excess of wit in the wrong place that had you hied off to that place."

Estelle gave a coarse laugh.

"You might not think it wit, citizen" she said.

He shrugged.

"It may have been couched in terms I prefer not to have Peter hear; but I make no doubt it was wittily enough said, or it would not have raised enough of a laugh to have you labelled dangerous" he said. "I imagine that if you will but learn to speak and write in a way that is acceptable anywhere you could use your words to, say, write songs that would rock thrones. Words and wit are powerful. The doggerel rhyme left behind by the Scarlet Pimpernel brought down more than one otherwise inviolate patriot; because of their failure to catch or hold him. It gave me my grey hairs. All because it was impudent; and ubiquitous. That is, one might find it anywhere. The usual place being in the empty cell of someone rescued from an impenetrable prison. Peter is a young and innocent girl; seeing what has been done to you has been a shock to her. And yet she was brave enough to come and find you, knowing that she would see horrors beyond her imagining. And one of her ambitions is to rescue from the streets young girls who should not have the knowledge of what they are already selling; because where so many gently brought up women condemn, or think vague pity from a safe distance, Peter would rather be doing something practical with compassion not pity. So I ask you nicely, please watch your language."

Estelle had actually blushed; probably for the first time in many years.

"I'll be careful citizen" she said. "She's class for what she does, not for her birth."

For the first time, Chauvelin wondered, with a pang of guilt, if the wretched Claire de Châtelard, who had gone to her death bravely and with a final coarse jest, had been as careful in her speech in front of his Fleurette for respect for a pure young girl as Estelle promised to be in front of Peter; for Fleurette had cried for her friend. Of all of those in whose executions he had a hand, that now was the one which rose up before him. And he should atone therefore by helping Peter prevent too many young girls become as Claire de Châtelard.

_I'm quite glad to get that entire episode over, it was hard to write; it wasn't even in my initial draught but the whole thing dropped out of nowhere into my head so... it makes a few points about Chauvelin and pokes him and Percy into a better understanding of each other even if not liking so something quite useful came out of the business as well as just a rescue. _


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32 Return to a Winter in England**

Back in England things returned to normal; Marguerite sent word that Leonie seemed a more biddable child now, with but occasional outbreaks of resentful temper; and in Frogham Hall the needs of two young women had done what the Viscount had failed to do by pleading and threats, in the provision of an abigail for Peter. Generally one of the chambermaids helped Peter with her hair, and with the more complex exigencies of dressing; the young girl who had been in training to be her maid having fallen in love and married the footman of the nearest big house, just, as Froggie put it, to be awkward. Lucille moved firmly and with French polish into place as Peter's abigail and did not turn a hair at her young mistress having less than conventional hobbies like fencing. In Lucille's eyes, Miss Petronilla could do no wrong. Estelle of course was not in a position to do much; but Peter firmly taught her to read and helped her learn English – she taught both French women – and set Estelle to reading. The idea of being a school teacher had tickled Estelle's imagination; and she was, too, determined to show Citizen Chauvelin that she WAS capable.

Such activities whiled away the winter; Sir Percy and others went more than once to France but had not called again on either of the Holtes, and had called only once to consult with Chauvelin upon a particular person.

Chauvelin, Peter and Froggie had come to an accommodation; generally speaking Peter was to be chaperoned, but she and her Armand were permitted an hour utterly alone each evening. It may be said that during that hour, very little was said; kisses were exchanged, and embraces; and the hour was savoured as enough time to drink in each other's presence but not enough time for those passionate exchanges to go too far out of hand. And the end of the hour, marked by the chiming of the clock to bring them to themselves, was interrupted by Froggie himself with drinks and refreshments brought in behind him by the butler.

In addition to the daily round of teaching the French women, Peter rode; sewed; read; and put up with fittings from the mantua-maker employed by her brother Jimmy to get her ready for the season. It amused Lucille and Estelle to pore over fashion plates; and Peter was glad to see them so pleasantly occupied. Estelle thought the gowns she had been dressed in as a lady's companion fine indeed; and wondered at some of the fashion plates! And for Peter there were morning gowns, afternoon gowns and ball gowns; spencers and polonaises, these open fronted over gowns the latest of fashion, the spencer never out of fashion; and headdresses with feathers, the ever obligatory feathers. Curls and ringlets were in fashion; the mantua-maker trilled in delight at Peter's natural curls and never even noticed the heavy irony with which Peter murmured 'how fortunate'. Fur muffs were huge; though as Peter pointed out, by April such would surely be superfluous and unnecessary and if anyone though she was going to walk around with her hands inside a dead sheep they could think again.

The Mantua Maker was much upset and assured Miss Petronilla that sheepskin was far too common a fur to consider as a muff; Froggie pointed out that one might carry a pistol in a muff; and Peter conceded that so long as he bought her a muff pistol she would have a plain sable muff so long as it was not big enough for Joseph the Shepherd to try to round up.

Once in possession of her muff pistol it amused Peter to undo some of the seams of those of her gowns which were heavy enough not to pull out of shape to insert a pocket to take it; and to make matching reticules which would also house her new toy. The turbans that were obligatory might also be altered to take the odd extra item; and bearing in mind that Peter had learned how to be prepared all her gowns had a small purse sewn in the neck to contain some gold and silver coins, a lockpick, a pencil and a scrap of paper, and a small penknife. This would be concealed by her fichu; and Peter felt safer knowing that she had more tools at her disposal than most. Froggie asked her who the devil she expected to be escaping from in London and in the midst of society, dash it all when he found out; and Peter said, reasonably, if Sir Percy needed her in a hurry she could walk out of anywhere fully prepared to aid him. Froggie admitted the sense in that and revealed that his own quizzing glass came apart to reveal a small blade and a slender pencil and a chap was never without plenty of blunt, even if most of it was as a roll of soft.

The mantua-maker became frantic when it was revealed that in the new Season Polonaises were to have short or Circassian sleeves; and when Peter murmured mildly that Circassian sleeves had been featured in the February fashion plates fell to mild hysterics.

The alteration was easy enough; and Peter declared cheerfully that doubtless by the end of the season all would be so much altered that she would look even more of a quiz than she did for being fashionable and with luck all the ostriches in the world would be devoid of feathers so they had perforce to go out of fashion.

She had refused point blank to have a feather in the riding beaver that was essential wear with her riding habit; as she pointed out being in London was going to try her horse severely enough without having irritating distractions bobbing about behind him.

She had also persuaded Froggie to bribe her with lurid reading matter by Eliza Parsons, whose new novel 'The Castle of Wolfenbach' was said to be full of sensation, murder and derring-do, including a stabbing of the heroine; which as Peter said should be light reading next to the exploits of the League.

-/-

Armand had endured lessons in tying a cravat to Froggie's satisfaction and refused to have anything to do with the excesses of the Waterfall but stuck to the austerity of the Mathematical.

"I like you just as well with whatever it's called the way you normally do it" said Peter "It's only a cravat, after all!"

"Funny; I said that once to Sir Percy and I thought he was going to faint in shock" laughed Armand. "Ma mie, we are not in the least a fashionable couple; either in our tastes in dress or our unfashionable attachment to each other which I hope and pray will continue throughout our marriage regardless of how much that shocks society."

"Well once this wretched season is over we can withdraw from society into the country and breed pigs" said Peter "We shall call a big fat ugly one Barras and the nervous one Tallien and so on."

"Naming policies aside I can see the attraction; though I confess I do enjoy knowing what is going on in the Town" said Armand.

"Well then we shall go up for a month every season and you shall go in the little season too and enjoy finding out more in a few weeks than most people manage in a lifetime" said Peter. "Shall I get Froggie to go to Tattersall's and get me a phaeton and two, so that we can drive in the park? I shall have to have a groom up of course for propriety's sake, or Lucille would do as a chaperone; you dislike riding, don't you?"

His self mocking smile touched his mouth.

"When my father's idea of teaching me to ride was to deposit me on top of this frightening beast higher above the ground than I had ever been and shout at me when I fell off, and put me straight back up until he gave up and beat me for being useless I fear I had very little of the usually aristocratic introduction to being born in the saddle" he said "I learned – after a fashion – but I have always been nervous of horses and terrified when on them. I could wish to have your aplomb."

"Do you?" she cocked her head on one side "If so, I can take you right back to basics; you wouldn't be embarrassed for me, would you?"

"I – no I suppose not" he said "Nor probably with Froggie either; since he has been heard to refer to my father in terms I'd rather not repeat to you."

"Oh? Well the only term I know that I'm not allowed to say is a loose fish; which I had overheard and Froggie took exception to me using. I gather it's someone of questionable morals."

"Quite so; most improper" he smiled at her. "Yes, ma mie, I know it sounds foolish when you have taken in your stride the descriptions of bodily functions from the tongue of Estelle who was entirely unaware that she committed any solecism in mentioning them. But Froggie is right. It is NOT a term a lady should use. Pick me a nice placid mount, my dear; I still sweat at the thought of having to mount up."

"Then we shan't start with you mounting at all; but in getting to know your mount. La, I dare swear I should not have learned to ride taught in such a way as you; I started by having rides in front of papa, then graduated to a fat pony who was a ride as close to sitting on a sofa as makes no odds. I was only permitted a horse when I mounted up on one of papa's; for which he spanked me in case I had spoiled the poor beast's mouth. Then he gave me solid lessons and handed me over to Jimmy to take riding. Come out and meet Dapple; she's an old lady and she has no vices at all."

-/-

The fine days were thus further beguiled in introducing Chauvelin to horsemanship; he would never love horses but with the gentle patience of his beloved he could mount and ride the less fiery beasts in the stables without trepidation and without needing a hand on the bridle by the time they were ready to leave for town. Froggie had arranged that Armand was to stay with George Stowmaries; and cheerfully offered him Bonamy, a chestnut of mature years and moderately placid habit as his mount in town because, as Froggie said, keeping the beast exercised would do him a favour. Chauvelin accepted with gratitude; to ride out with Peter was a way of getting relative privacy of conversation even in a crowd. He had also permitted Froggie to introduce him to a tailor; Peter had declared that SHE would stand the damage for that as it was her inheritance he was going to marry and it was none of Froggie's business, which had led to a fiery exchange. Armand Chauvelin hated being the pensioner of either and interposed this fact loudly; to which Froggie replied that if one couldn't scrounge off one's friends and relatives, who could one scrounge off?

The brother and sister had agreed to split the bill and Peter told her love that he might as well be as extravagant as he liked because whilst she was an heiress, Froggie was positively a nabob,

Chauvelin had compromised and had asked for classic rather than fashionably cut clothing that should last; which Froggie might deplore but Peter approved.

And so they were all set to go up to Town, the horses sent on ahead; because Froggie maintained a second household of servants in the town house but as he said, his cattle preferred the country.

And Peter reflected that it was exciting in a manner of speaking; for it would be a whole new experience. But most exciting would be when it was over; and she would marry her Armand!


	33. Chapter 33

**PART III**

**Chapter 33 Peter introduced to Society**

The lights! The gaiety! The colours!

The stage was set to launch The Honourable Miss Petronilla Holte upon the world, under the protection of her duenna Miss Primm; who was perhaps the one of the party who had most enjoyed the visits of the mantua –makers, since Froggie had decreed that he'd not have his sister accompanied by a frump and Miss Primm should jolly well acquire some a la modality. There was nothing Miss Primm desired more – but being a modest lady had never mentioned such yearnings, or else, as Peter said with her characteristic straightforward way, she would have bought her such fal-lals years ago. Miss Primm therefore was dressed soberly as befitted a lady of uncertain years who had left behind being even an ape leader years since – or as Froggie unkindly said, decades since – but in soft rich clothes that were up to the minute. Miss Primm was revelling in every part of the grand occasion.

Peter thought it a waste of time; but put up with it for the love of her brother.

"The cost of the candles alone for this evening would feed a poor family for a year" said Chauvelin disapprovingly.

"It is rather profligate, isn't it?" said Peter "And if Froggie didn't feed plenty of pensioners year in year out I'd feel worse about that. However the few staff we have brought with us are going to be popular in the village when we return because they will describe it; and the villages will enjoy hearing about the spectacle. Actually they'll enjoy hearing about it a sight more than I do the being here; and Lucille will pretend to sneak some of my gowns out for them to look at and touch, and she will tell them how many people I danced with and everyone else will be happy. People, on the whole, actually enjoy spectacle; which was why the Guillotine was popular because it was a spectacle in a manner of speaking. And oddly enough, our people would be terribly disappointed in Froggie if he didn't put on a display for his only sister. Personally of all of them I'd rather go to Astley's Amphitheatre and see the trick riding; it should be rebuilt by now after it burned down last year and I'm eager to see if it's been improved; papa took us when I was about eight and I recall I loved it. I was not so fond of the clowns, but the jugglers and tumblers and tightrope walkers were vastly skilled and their feats most pretty things to watch."

"How many of them did you and Froggie try to emulate?" asked Chauvelin. She grinned.

"Most" she said "And papa threatened to thrash us both with the rope we were trying to walk on if we did not desist. It was vastly difficult to get it tight enough not to sag in the middle and toss us off, though we were only a foot or two off the ground and in the hay loft too for soft landings."

"Somehow I wonder whether Sir Percy has ever used performers from the _Amphitheatre Anglais_ that Mr Astley set up in Paris to achieve some of the impossible seeming feats he performed" said Chauvelin.

"It wouldn't surprise me" said Peter "And actually it wouldn't surprise me to find that he had paid the acrobats to teach him how to perform the feats himself."

"No; it would not surprise me either" said Chauvelin "He is a man of infinite resource and ability."

"Well I suppose I'd better get the rope out again now there's no papa to tick me off" said Peter "The acrobatics I can imagine Sir Percy doing; but I fancy he is too heavy a man – and with his shoulders too TOP heavy – to balance on a rope. Being small and light, I however have a better chance of learning."

Chauvelin gave a mock groan.

"What, more for me to worry about?"

"You shall watch, my dear, and kiss it better if I fall off" said Peter gaily. "Now you and I had better separate, you to join the throng and I to make my entrance to greet my guests. If I'm not mistaken they are beginning to arrive."

-/-

Peter was glad of a good memory, or she would never have been able to even guess at the names of all the people to whom she was presented. She felt uncomfortable being on display in her white satin ball gown with its demi-train of gauze spangled with silver. It was a simple gown as befitted a debutante and with her golden curls and petite figure, Peter was a piece of ivory and gold perfection in it; quite a diamond of the first water, as Sir Percy said when he kissed her hand.

"La! Don't make fun of me Sir Percy!" reproved Peter.

"I was not doing so, my dear; you are a beautiful girl" said Sir Percy.

"I'm more comfortable in sober breeches" grumbled Peter "And I CAN tie the mathematical, though I prefer the informality of the Osbaldson."

"Say not so! Sartorial murder!" declared Sir Percy "I see Froggie has prevailed upon Armand to at least learn something more; always have I deplored his neckcloths, for one could never call them cravats!"

"You are a fribble" said Peter cheerfully. "Lud, have you seen Froggie's waistcoat? Puce with a cream stripe; ludicrous."

"Puce is the colour of the season my dear!" said Sir Percy.

"And vastly unflattering for most" retorted Peter. "And though Froggie's wearing it with buff smallclothes I've been introduced to a fellow with a puce and lavender striped waistcoat and pale yellow breeches with a coquliquot colour jacket and a quizzing glass that could contain in its over-decorated stem a full size dagger and a roll of soft."

"Ah, I fancy I see the gentleman; what our good friend Armand Chauvelin would term an 'incroyable'; though of course he'd use the same term for me; whereas I have the good taste not to go to excess" said Percy. "I see hair is to be worn _au naturel_ this season with the new tax on hair powder; one is quite pleased to have set the trend by eschewing hair powder before it died its natural death. Still a few queues worn though" he said with placid satisfaction over his own Titus locks. "Chauvelin is vastly in vogue I see in such; what a wonder you have wrought upon his sartorial elegance my dear!"

Armand had decided to have his hair cut short at the last minute so as not to stand out; and having decided on this went for the very short Brutus cut; being easier to keep neat and not requiring the artistic dishevelment of the Titus cut. It hid the few grey locks quite well – which had been partly due to the art of Froggie's barber – and he looked younger for it. Peter had not been sure if she had liked it at first, but had chuckled and told him that at least he would not have to worry about it looking disarranged after she had kissed him thoroughly. She answered Sir Percy's comment on her Armand's nod to fashion.

"You mean Froggie wrought it" said Peter "Besides, Armand hates to be obvious; by acquiring the right look he achieves anonymity."

"Actually, conservative choice of clothing notwithstanding, he looks quite elegant" said Percy "I must congratulate him; you will make a pretty couple when you dance together."

"Yes; I managed to persuade Froggie to let me engage him as my partner for the evening so shall be able to dance at least twice with him" said Peter "But I am to lead off the first country dance with the most important man here, whoever that turns out to be."

"Tony I should think" said Sir Percy "He's the son of a Duke, albeit the younger son."

"Oh, then I shan't mind in the least" said Peter.

"Don't worry; we're all here for you my dear" said Sir Percy "And I must move on for there are others to present you to!"

-/-

Peter smiled and curtseyed and wished most of her guests to perdition because her nose itched and she longed to scratch it; which opportunity she finally had when Lord Stowmaries arrived.

"George! Thank goodness! My nose itches; do you mind if I scratch it?" said Peter.

"Lud, my dear, use your fan and seem to flirt with it" said Stowmaries.

"George, you are an angel" said Peter, flirting vigorously with her fan. Stowmaries laughed.

"You should learn the language of the fan" he said "I fear you just declared a partiality for me."

"There's a language of the fan? Tare an' ounds why did nobody warn me?"

"I'll write it out for you" said Stowmaries, kissing her hand and moving on "And I say, Peter, don't use such expressions save to one of us."

-/-

Lord Tony smiled cheerfully at Peter.

"Nerves?" he asked, seeing her looking rather white "And you having nerves of steel in less salubrious circumstances?"

"That's a lot easier to cope with then fearing to make a fool of myself in front of the whole world and upsetting Froggie" said Peter.

"La! Just follow me Milady; you shall have your part of this country dance out of the way soon enough and then we shall make inconsequential chat while the rest of the set is made up" he said. He kissed her hand gracefully and led her to the head of the double line that was forming up. The orchestra commenced; he bowed as she curtseyed and they stepped the measure and skipped down between the line of dancers for the next couple at the head of the lines to take their place leading.

"There, that was not so bad, was it Peter?" said Tony.

"Vastly less stressful than I feared" said Peter. "How many people here do I know?"

Tony laughed.

"I should have thought you would realise that" he said.

"Well the ones I have met, obviously; I just wondered who were friends I had not yet met; you take my meaning."

"Ah, yes, I see now!" Tony beamed "People like Glynde; and St Denis; and the Hastings cousins. Oh, I'll see about introducing them all to you; naturally they've heard of you and are agog to meet you."

"They are? I hope they won't be disappointed" said Peter "I'm no great socialite and I make up the dance steps as I go along."

"Oh you danced like a piece of exquisite thistledown" said Tony gallantly "Your natural grace carries you through any uncertainties I'm sure; not that I noticed you missing a trick."

"Well there are only three main steps I suppose and none of them difficult" said Peter "It is more amusing dancing with someone other then Froggie, nor under his strict instruction; it is hard to enjoy the grasp of the dearest of people swinging me down the line when the line is but a lot of uncompromising chairs and Froggie must needs shout criticism that we are about to barge the Duchess which is but a chair wearing a monstrous turban; and no word of praise but a gloomy comment that he supposed we should both do."

Tony laughed.

"Oh Froggie's a stickler" he said "If he but once said that you would do you doubtless did very well by most people's standards. Will you dance the cotillion?"

"Yes; the intricacies of it are like a well-oiled piece of machinery. I like that well enough I think" said Peter "Though without others to dance it with one can never be sure."

"Oh you will find it vastly diverting with a decent number" said Tony "And I'll check to make sure you are in a set with three able couples so they will not lose count and confuse the whole dance."

"Now you make me nervous that I shall spoil it for the rest" said Peter.

"La! You have a phenomenal memory; no-one could ever expect you to miscount; and Chauvelin is a very devil for figures" said Tony.

"You relieve my mind greatly; and getting my role in this first dance over is also a great boost to the confidence" said Peter.

-/-

Peter danced another dance – this one squired by George Stowmaries – before she danced with Chauvelin, in a cotillion which they shared with Tony and his Yvonne, Sir Andrew and his Suzanne and Sir Percy and Marguerite. Marguerite had been brought to bed with the heir to the house of Blakeney some six weeks since and was out of the traditional month's lying in though she was not attending more than a few functions while she regained her normal fitness and fitted in around the demands of small Justin Blakeney.

"La!" said Peter "In such exalted company I know I shall be forgiven if I tie my feet in knots but I sincerely hope that I shall not!"

"Fie my dear! You will do perfectly!" said Marguerite.

"Or you could do as I do and pretend to yourself that the consequence of getting it wrong is the guillotine" said Chauvelin.

"Odd's life, a macabre way to get there but I suppose it's whatever helps you keep concentration!" laughed Percy "And I suppose the shadow of the guillotine must concentrate the mind somewhat, wot?"

"It does tend to have that effect" said Chauvelin.

Peter gazed into his eyes as he led her into the set; and determined that she would succeed not to show her lover up. In the event she enjoyed herself; weaving the patterns of the complex dance with expert and athletic people was a stimulating experience; and Armand too seemed to enjoy it. Armand was enjoying the dance simply because he was dancing with Peter; and knew that he was dancing better than he had ever done before solely because there was more point in the exercise than ever before, which was to bring pleasure to his lady.

Peter managed to dance twice more with him after that; both country dances which enabled them long conversation since the long lines took a full hour for all who were in them to have danced their measure and bring the leaders once again to the top. Armand explained to her who some of the people were, who she did not know; and described with his usual sarcastic wit their failings and foibles.

Then they went in to supper; and Peter was pleased to have had Armand seated not next to her but across the table; Froggie WAS a stickler but he was also extremely fond of his sister.

The on-dit that was circulating was of the marriage of the Prince of Wales; and how he was said to have taken one look at his bride when she arrived, clutched the mantelpiece and called for brandy.

"Is she so very ugly then?" asked Peter.

"Ugly!" Sir Tony was seated next to her, Yvonne on his other side "Nooooo… but dirty! The patina of dirt and grease was obvious yards away; and the Prince is a fastidious man."

"Poor man" said Peter "And poor Princess Caroline if she comes from a place so benighted that she knows no better…. Perchance someone might give her a hint."

"Someone should have given her a hint before she arrived; I doubt he's going to be sanguine about going near her in case anything jumps off her onto him" said Tony "And by the way, m'dear, fastidiousness is not universal even in England; Froggie wouldn't invite anyone who doesn't wash regularly to a do he hosts, but when you are invited to other balls and events you may encounter some very dirty characters indeed; up to and including the odd duke."

Peter pulled a face.

"I shall then pretend they are sans-cullottes who have little enough water that is within easy reach and no education" she said "It will lend me tolerance; but I'll not dance with any."

"That's more or less the way Prinny feels; save that for the succession he HAS to dance the dance of sheets and blankets with his dirty queen" said Sir Tony.

"Then I wish him all the best and commend his bravery" said Peter.

"Not that it will be any great tragedy if the whole brood die out" said Chauvelin leaning forward "You might try a republic; the English are pragmatic enough and efficient enough to manage to make a better job of it than poor France."

"Oh no doubt; but I think we had enough of republics with Cromwell" said Tony "We COULD do it; but we choose NOT to do it. And I fancy most of the populace would say you the same."

"More than likely" said Chauvelin "The populace of England are a smug and self satisfied bunch on the whole; largely because the aristos here, also on the whole, actually believe that responsibilities go hand in hand with rights. It is no wonder that France hates England; as any miserable man hates the jovial and happy one. It will not, I think, be too much hardship to learn to be English; though naturally any émigré has regrets."

"You put it very well M. Chauvelin" said Yvonne. "England is indeed a happy country – for the most part; but one regrets one's childhood home."

And so the Ball continued; and if Peter found it became tedious she was polite enough not to show it; and went gladly to her bed when it was over and reflected that at least at any occasion to which she was invited she might at least leave before it was finished rather than having to spend every tedious minute of it being polite to people once the novelty had worn off.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34 A Ride in the Park…..**

"So how did you enjoy your first ball m'dear?" asked Froggie when he strolled down to breakfast. His sister had almost finished her breakfast though even so she deplored the lateness of the hour, almost ten o'clock.

"Oh it was prodigiously amusing at first but it went on too long" said Peter, tucking into devilled kidneys.

"Unnatural wench" said Froggie "You are supposed to claim that you could have danced all night; nobody expects a debutante to affect fashionable ennui. And you are also supposed to be all of a dither such that things as unromantic as devilled kidneys should be beyond your delicate palate."

"The devil they are!" said Peter "Besides, the length of time you waste with your wretched cravat, they'd have got cold if I didn't find them a good home; which would have been a waste. Have some buttered eggs; or do you prefer cold beef? There's some ham too if you fancy it."

"I'll have some of everything" said Froggie "Have you eaten all those kidneys you glutton?"

"No I saved some for you; pass me the pickles; I'll finish my repast with a little beef too I believe" said Peter "I suppose it's too late to go riding."

"Late? Not a bit of it my dear; still early I assure you!"

Peter snorted.

"Then I'll be out for some fresh air as soon as I've finished here and changed. Ah, Gerard, will you pass orders to have my horse saddled please? And the Viscount's" she added "He needs to accompany me; ready say in twenty minutes?"

"Of course Miss" said the butler.

"Twenty minutes? You expect me to eat and change into riding clothes in just TWENTY MINUTES?" declared her brother.

"Yes why not? Fifteen minutes to eat and five to change" said Peter.

"Madam, you expect me to do something as momentous as to change in so scant a time? You cannot be serious!" declared Froggie.

"Froggie, I've seen how fast you can be ready if you have to be; either be ready in twenty minutes or I'll ride out alone."

"Be damned will you" said Froggie "It's impossible; Gerard, have Hobbes hold himself ready to accompany m'sister."

"Yes My Lord" said Gerard, without so much as a quiver of the eyebrow. He would have wagered that it would take Miss Petronilla much more than twenty minutes to change; and was subsequently glad that he had not been offered such odds since she swept downstairs not much more then five minutes later in her habit, beaver in hand and her own cravat flowing in delicate folds that almost mimicked the Waterfall.

That Peter had prepared a cravat beforehand and merely pinned it into place on a less extravagant neckerchief he could not know; Peter wanted to try out the effect to see if anyone noticed, for on a woman it was but a strange kick of fashion. And if nobody noticed, then she might prepare other cravats to add to her disguise as a young man about town if she needed it.

One never knew when such things might come in useful.

Froggie, still addressing cold beef and pickles, glared at her.

"It's not an authentic Waterfall" he said "How the devil did you tie it so fast?"

"I didn't think a lady would be permitted a genuine Waterfall my dear" said Peter "And as to how, that's my secret. I call it 'The Tumbling Rill'; will it suit?"

"Egad yes; prodigious fine" said Froggie. "Just don't go out in the Mathematical; it ain't done. Have a pleasant ride and try not to upset Hobbes too much."

-/-

Chauvelin had also ridden out to the park in the hopes – and it is to be said expectations – of finding his lady love maintaining her rigid matutinal customs albeit a little later – or rather a lot later – than was her custom.

He raised his hat and bowed to her.

"Not in the least fatigued by your first ball I see" he said.

"Only a little; lud, I didn't rise until nine, and then I had to ask plaintively for breakfast because the staff reckoned I'd not be up before noon" said Peter "It's a silly idea, frittering away the night at the time of year when dawn is most perfect."

"I believe you are supposed to enjoy the dawn on your way home ma mie" said Chauvelin

"Fustian!" said Peter "Also gammon; or as Mrs Hobbes would say, all tripes and trollibags."

"Please Miss Petronilla if the wife knew you quoted her she'd box my ears for letting you repeat it!" interposed the worthy Hobbes.

Peter grinned.

"Well I shan't tell and nor will M. Chauvelin" she said. "It's too chilly to stand around, Armand; shall we take a sedate turn about the park to keep the nags from taking a chill?"

"By all means; I am yours to command" said Chauvelin.

Peter gave a gurgle of mirth.

"And that would go out of the window the moment you felt it important enough to take charge" she said cheerfully.

"True; but generally one gives an unbroken filly her head until she's run herself to a standstill" said Chauvelin.

"Oh VERY good" said Peter. "Hobbes, be nice and drop back a discreet distance; I want to exchange sweet nothings with my intended."

"Very good, Miss" said Hobbes. He was one of those staff who had come with the family and knew how things stood; and had moved from despising the French fellow for not being able to ride to granting him grudging admiration for sticking to learning for the sake of his lady love. And his mount, Bonamy, was of pleasant temperament but could not by any means be described as a slug; and the Moosoo accrued no shame in riding him, for he was a bang up piece of horseflesh, just a little old for the neck-or-nothing sort of ride Mr Froggie liked.

"Ma mie, you must not let yourself become exhausted by burning the candle at both ends" said Chauvelin.

"I was not planning too, my love" said Peter "I was generally considering leaving by midnight like Cendrillon, not wishing her clothes to turn back to rags and her coach into a pompion; though I shall eschew the slippers of glass for they must have been deucedly uncomfortable."

"Though in Town it is said that midnight is merely the beginning of such affairs my Peter; you will acquire censure if you retire so early for it will be seen as an insult to your hostess."

"Oh bother" said Peter. "This season is such a nuisance; one has to do the right thing for the right people. And I'm supposed to go to Almack's – Marguerite has seen to getting me vouchers – if I'm not to be presented at court; though at least it is supposed to be less likely to have people getting disguised there because no alcohol is served. Are you going to bother to join any clubs? Froggie reckoned you'd probably prefer Brook's to White's because Brook's is the hotbed of Whig radicalism and White's is for Tories; and Froggie, who reckons that politics makes his head ache manages to belong to both without offending anyone."

Chauvelin laughed.

"Froggie is inoffensive" he said "How typical of him to belong to both though – not in a spirit of maintaining ties with two political camps I wager, but because he has friends in both."

"Oh precisely!" said Peter. "Is Sir Percy arranging for you to go to Almack's? Because if not I don't think I shall bother to go out on Wednesdays since nobody else holds any ball in competition to the weekly meetings."

"I don't know" said Chauvelin "I think the idea is that you meet the leaders of society without being hampered by my company; to give you that chance to back out and love someone else."

"Think you that I am so fickle and inconstant?" said Peter.

"No ma mie; but you ARE very young and Sir Percy wanted you to have every chance to find that you had made a mistake because of the romance of the circumstances of our meeting" said Chauvelin cynically. "So I will not be surprised if I am not to go to Almack's. As to whether I will join a gentleman's club is doubtful; I have not the means nor the inclination to be a part of such places where gambling forms much of the entertainment."

"We aren't particularly suited to society, are we?" sighed Peter "But if we are to be a part of the League seriously we must needs be a part of it as are the others for the disguise of it; and also for the passing of messages as they are needed. I'll ask Froggie if there isn't any way to arrange for you to use my funds; or maybe he can give you a draft on his bank and will draw me up a document to repay him when we're married. It's silly that you should not be able to blend in; even if you may not much enjoy it. The clubs do serve food and quiet reading rooms I believe as well as gambling."

"A return to the life I had thought I had given up forever" said Chauvelin wryly. "Well I have thrown in my fortunes with the League; I suppose I must swallow my pride and accept that if the League considers me useful enough to do me favours that I should accept them. I hate to be dependant on others."

"But you accepted a salary from France to do your job; look upon the support of the League as your salary for fighting for the ideals, the support of the innocent, that we do."

"I see; and even as there were always funds available for anything extra that was required, so too the richest man in the kingdom of England finds funds for whatever the league or her members need" said Chauvelin.

"Yes; covert aid is given to make sure that anyone who is rescued who needs it has enough, or places are found where they may support themselves too" said Peter "The Frontenacs for example; Monsieur de Frontenac has become a cordwainer, and Madame and Rose are high class milliners. Rose stays out of the shop of course because she is so delicate, but she may prepare ruched ribbon and so on. I'm going to see Madame de Frontenac this afternoon for some hats; and I shall be staying to take tea with Rose. I like your chapeau-bras, by the way; I know Froggie considers them a bit outmoded but I think they are vastly more sensible than some of the high brimless beavers so many dandies seem to wear. I always have the urge to throw something at them to knock them off."

"Urchin" said Chauvelin.

"Guilty!" said Peter cheerfully.

_Peter will have read Cinderella [Cendrillon] in the French of course from Perrault; Pompion was a name by which a pumpkin was known in England at the time. _


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35….And Some Unpleasantness**

The more fashionable and therefore the later risers were starting to emerge as they completed their circuit of the park; Peter waved gaily to a selection of her brother's friends.

"Morning Miss Holte!" called George Stowmaries "Froggie not up?"

"Oh yes! But I left him to breakfast because he swore he could not eat and change in the twenty minutes I offered him" said Peter gaily.

"Egad, I should think not!" Tom Galveston, with Stowmaries, was shocked. "Couldn't wholesomely do either one in so scant a time; need twenty minutes for the tying of the cravat alone! Demme, Miss Holte, you're a hard and unreasonable woman!"

Peter laughed.

"You dandies!" she said. "Who is the young man who is glaring at us so, to whom you were speaking when I waved?"

Stowmaries turned and beckoned the young man.

"This is Armand St Just; Lady Blakeney's brother" he said "He was unable to attend your ball last night."

"I refuse to attend any affair at which Chauvelin is a welcome guest" said St Juste. "He is the filth of the earth and not fit to ride anywhere near a gently reared lady; Mademoiselle, you have not been warned what a very monster and terrorist this fellow is, a creature of despicable habits, no virtues and who is dead to honour" and he went to strike Chauvelin in the face.

Peter knew enough to realise that no man could be expected to swallow that level of insult; and knew equally that a younger, fitter man who had a better idea how to ply a sword would be enacting bloody murder on her beloved if an illicit duel were arranged; as it almost had to be. She poked Bonamy hard to make him wheel out of the way and rode forward to interpose herself.

Armand St Just did not manage to pull the blow; and Peter was slapped hard in the face. She swayed in the saddle, riding the blow with skill; but put one hand up to the reddened cheek; and reached over with the other to slap the aghast St Just back. The three other men stared in horror, and Chauvelin pulled Bonamy round to range himself at Peter's side.

"Has that fellow hurt you ma mie?" he asked her sharply.

"The fellow is foxed already!" she said coldly "Unable to control his words in front of a lady, attempting to mill in front of a lady, and so disguised as to actually hit a lady!"

Armand St Just had gone a ghastly hue.

"I apologise Mademoiselle" he said "I had no intention of hitting you."

"I accept the apology for the blow" said Peter rigidly "But I have heard no apology for your intemperate language in front of me towards my escort; unless you wish my brother James Holte of Frogham to send his friends to wait upon you. Or just to draw your claret."

St Just paled still more; he was an adequate if over enthusiastic swordsman; but Froggie Holte was an all round sportsman.

"I apologise for offending you Mademoiselle" he said "But you should be warned about the sort of person with whom you ride."

"I am aware of the history of M. Chauvelin" said Peter coolly "And I am also aware that Marguerite Blakeney has put the past behind her. I suggest you do the same for the sake of the harmony of the League we all hold dear."

"You are then the mere girl of whom they speak who has risked herself as one of us? And still you would defend his name? Sacre couer! I pray that your eyes be opened!" cried Armand. "As for you, Chauvelin, between us there will be a reckoning one day for all that lies between us!"

"Melodramatic words young St Just" said Chauvelin, his pale eyes glittering with contempt "But I would reflect, if I were you, that you may not wish your sister or friends to know the details of why you feel so much lies between us. You would do well, as Lady Blakeney has done, to step aside from the past; and I will do likewise; and in the English fashion shake my hand for the furtherance of the ideals of the League with which I find myself more in accordance than the weak fools who rule France. And then I too shall forget the words that have upset Miss Holte, and accept that wine spoke."

He held out a hand.

"Oh bravo" murmured George Stowmaries.

It was the reminder of his treachery, the treachery of which Marguerite knew nothing, that struck deep into Armand's heart; and he gave a cry.

"I would never shake your hand! Never!" he cried.

Chauvelin shrugged.

"Suit yourself; I was ready for the friendship I bear others of the League to put aside my feelings towards you. I shall ask Sir Percy to make sure we are never expected to work together as the friction would be too great."

"He is insane if he will trust your word and accept you!" cried Armand "The League of….."

Stowmaries jabbed him in the ribs.

"St Just! For pity's sake you idiot, will you shout our business across London? As well take the names of the League to the Town Crier!"

Armand St Just pursed his lips, scowled once more on Chauvelin, wheeled his horse and galloped off.

"A rather unsteady type I fear" said Galveston. "Sir Andrew always maintained that there was more than mere foolishness to the reasons behind Percy being taken by your wretched bunch, Chauvelin; no I shan't ask but I shall draw my own conclusions. Not perhaps so well done to speak of that in front of us; but my respect to you for the dignity of offering him your hand. George and I will keep any conclusions we may have drawn to ourselves, wot?"

"Rather" said Stowmaries "For Lady Blakeney's sake. For my own part I'm always nervous if I'm working with St Just; demmed excitable fellow I assure you."

"I had noticed" said Chauvelin dryly. "And I had not been so ill bred as to refer to past matters, Galveston, had not I hoped to shock the fellow into containing himself a little better; I prefer not to be forced into a duel. I hold Sir Percy in too great esteem to fight his brother-in-law."

-/-

Armand St Just was a young man of intemperate passions in both love and hatred; and through having always been rescued from the effects of his follies by either his sister or his brother-in-law had never learned to bridle the excess of emotion that was a part of his Gallic temperament. He had received a check to his foolishness after having done the unthinkable and betrayed Percy; but his passions rose up and blinded all his memories save those of hatred. And he blamed Chauvelin for placing an impediment between him and his beloved Jeanne Lange because it had taken him the forgiveness Percy had shown him and some time of reflection before he felt sufficiently worthy of that brave and loving young woman to lay at her feet his proposal of marriage; which she had eagerly accepted, wondering merely what had taken him so long. He knew in his heart of hearts that the blame lay squarely with him for not placing his trust firmly in Percy to see to the safety of Jeanne; leading to the situation in which Chauvelin was able to blackmail him into betraying his oath, betraying his honour and betraying even his sister in delivering up the man she loved so passionately to his enemies. And Percy had forgiven; forgiven for Marguerite's sake. Armand was under no illusions that he would have been asked to leave the League had not Percy wished to conceal his brother-in-law's perfidy from the exquisite Marguerite; and guilt is ever an emotion to make scapegoats more hateful.

He recalled that Percy had said that Chauvelin dared to love this girl Petronilla; well then, a way should be found to put Chauvelin through the same anguish he, Armand, had suffered over the arrest of Jeanne. If indeed the man was truly capable of love; Armand doubted it; but to deprive him of the girl was at least one way to cause him some form of distress. Armand considered making the chit fall in love with him; but that was harder since she had beheld him in a way that had angered her; and besides, if it came to Jeanne's ears such would cause his beloved pain. There must be another way; and Armand St Just duly bent his mind to consider what sort of other way there might be to effect a suitable revenge on Chauvelin.

Not for one moment did he consider how his revenge might impact on an innocent girl! Not once did it occur to him that in wanting to hurt Chauvelin he might also harm the sister of one of his colleagues! As always, Armand St Just was a man for whom his passions spoke louder than reason; and without thought of consequences he gave full rein to his hatred.

-/-

Peter put St Just firmly from her mind; she had heard enough about him from her Armand to feel sure that she did not much like the foolish brother of Marguerite Blakeney; it appeared to Peter that he was a foolish young man who had never grown out of being a spoiled child, babied by Marguerite and permitted liberties by Percy where any of the rest of them, herself included, would expect to be called to book. She did not see that he could seriously expect to do anything to hurt Chauvelin in England unless he forced a duel on him; and spoke quickly to her lover.

"Armand, if he tries to force duel on you, may I suggest that you say that you would only fight with someone whose honour was intact? That way he cannot press forward; and if any ask you to state what you mean, you can say that you are bound by oath not to reveal the circumstances for the sake of a lady. Which is true enough, because it's for Marguerite; but others will make a more er, earthy assumption."

"You have the mind of a diplomat ma mie" said Chauvelin. "It is quite brilliant. I had to tell Percy when he asked me to keep silence for Marguerite's sake over St Just's participation in his capture that I had already told you, and that you too would hold silent. He accepted my word; though it is not precisely an oath. I skirted round that to warn St Just off I fear; I hope Sir Percy would forgive that. I wished to avoid conflict within the League; as well, as I said, as not wishing to place Percy in an unpleasant position."

"Well if the wretch had spitted you on his sword, he would have seen his name in mud as I published the entire story of his perfidy right before I spitted him on mine" said Peter.

"Vixen" said Chauvelin; it was by way of an endearment.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**** A visit to the theatre **

Peter spent a merry afternoon with the Frontenacs; though it was more usual for a milliner as with any tradesman to visit her client, this was at least partly a social visit as well as a means to help friends of friends by patronising their industry. Peter enjoyed trying on hats and bemoaning the fashions in turbans as all unbecoming. Madame de Frontenac persuaded her young client to look at herself in an undyed straw hat with shaped brim trimmed with pink ribbon; and suggested that a blue silk ribbon instead to match the beautiful eyes of the wearer might do perfectly; and Peter was much struck by the 'country' style hat, and promptly agreed. That it had no feathers standing up at all was a deciding factor.

"Feathers look wonderful – on birds" said Peter firmly. "And they bend so remarkably easily too and there's nothing that looks quite so dissipated as a bunch of bent feathers."

"Then we shall create for you a toque with a curling feather" said Madame de Frontenac "That you will not find inconvenient; but it will be of the most fashionable! You have the French look Miss Holte though your complexion is all English; and that we shall emphasise!"

Peter had the French look solely because she thought the high waisted Grecian-style gowns that were gaining in popularity in France were more becoming than the fashion still prevalent in England where many layers of fabric and lace brought the profile of the bosom forward in the 'pouter pigeon' styles; and she had argued her mantua-maker to compromise.

As Madame De Frontenac also suggested that Peter should follow up the Grecian theme and use silk scarves as bandeaux about her hair instead of the more formal turbans for evening wear, making a curtsey to custom by fastening two severe feathers with a pin to a bow at the side, Peter was delighted. She retired to drink tea with Rose in a much better humour declaring that Rose and her mother were very marvels of milliners.

She was to attend the theatre that evening with her brother, joining the Blakeneys in their box; they were to see Sheridan's 'School for Scandal' and Sheridan himself was the subject of on-dits as he was said to be going to marry an heiress now he had been widowed several years. Peter did not care about Mr Sheridan's personal life; she had read the play and was looking forward to it, though as she said to Froggie it was rather black humour, for the scandalmongering Lady Sneerwell could be found easily amongst some of the émigrée ci-devant aristocrats even if she had no English counterpart which she probably did; and though the play was almost twenty years old the idea of a wife having to have a cicisbeo was still _de rigeur_ such that a couple who were in love earned scorn and the excellent husband that Sir Andrew was, for example, was almost sneered at for uxoriousness.

"Well I suppose it is funny in that it is all taken to excess" said Froggie. "Relyin' on you to tell me what's going on and who's the good fellows are and who are the bad ones and all that sort of thing; Sheridan's complex enough to make my head ache; worse than Shakespeare, I assure you!"

-/-

Froggie was not entirely happy and already almost had a headache.

Armand St Just had come calling while Peter was out and had passed Froggie an engraving he had bought, of Henry Fuseli's painting 'The Nightmare' which featured a young woman in a classical gown or chemise, apparently asleep in a rather abandoned fashion with her head and arms lolling off the chaise-longue on which she rested, with an incubus sitting on her chest and a demonic horse in the background. St Just had labelled the incubus 'Chauvelin' and the sleeping figure 'Miss Holte' and had written underneath,

"The fair one sleeps unaware of the danger she is in from the demon'.

Froggie had not been amused and had told St Just that he was a demmed fool and to oblige him by not acting such histrionics.

"Besides" said Froggie bluntly "I don't see what Peter's safety is to do with you; if I was you I'd concentrate on your own lady-love in case she thinks you're neglecting her; unless you're so inconstant that you've forgotten her before the blast of m'sister's fine eyes."

"How dare you!" cried St Just "I adore, yes ADORE my Jeanne! I but seek to warn you that the fellow had accosted your sister in the park and was riding with her; when he learned to ride I have no idea but it's encroaching of the canaille!"

"Oh Peter taught him" said Froggie "That's why he's riding one of my nags; wouldn't let him if he wasn't competent. Tell you what, St Just, talking about nags I feel a demmed good pun coming on; you forgot to label one of your figures" and he took up pen and dipped it to write 'St Just' by the demonic horse.

St Just glowered.

"All right; don't heed my warning; but if you cared for your sister at all, you'd be a bit more careful who she meets!"

"Lud, man, as if I've any control over the mad wench!" said Froggie. "Go and take a ice cold bath, St Just; cool yourself down a little. Do you the world of good."

Which exchange – and the demmed foreigner's implication that he did not care about Peter – had upset Froggie more than he cared to show to his visitor; and he had burned the engraving without telling Peter about it. No telling what the girl might have done if she knew – Peter having described the encounter in the park to account for her reddened cheek that had not faded by nuncheon – and Froggie feared his sister trying to call St Just out, or mill him down or something equally inappropriate.

-/-

Froggie had restored his good humour by the time they dined with the Blakeneys prior to the theatre visit to the newly expanded Theatre Royal Drury Lane; and Peter had obliged her brother with an outline of the plot and wrote down who was who for him to refer to. From Peter's point of view this was by nature of self preservation; if Froggie knew what was happening he was less likely to ask her loud questions and mar her enjoyment of the acting and tortuous plot.

And indeed Peter enjoyed her evening very much indeed and laughed in delight at the comedy of manners; and praised Mrs Jordan for her wonderfully witty interpretation of the youthful Lady Teazle, and her ability to play a woman some ten years her junior with such perspicacity.

"She does a marvellous Viola in 'Twelfth Night' too" said Sir Percy "Famed for her 'breeches' roles doncherknow; though I have to say she's all woman in them. You carry the day over her as a true boy m'dear."

Peter grinned.

"Maybe I had a little more at stake" she said "Is it true that she's the mistress of Prince William and has given him children? She keeps her figure marvellously well."

"It's said her earnings on stage keep him" said Froggie "Notoriously short in the pocket all the royal princes."

-/-

The interval was filled with people visiting the box; and Peter was introduced to a selection of people, including a rather austere lady in her middle twenties.

"Lady Sefton" Sir Percy introduced her. Peter curtseyed.

"How do you do?" she said

"Well enough my dear. How are you enjoying the play?"

"Oh very well, Ma'am" said Peter merrily "Such a wicked and cynical satire on society and I fear only too likely to be drawn from life; one might be glad it is so old a play or one might fear to meet the originals of the characters and fail to disguise the fact that one had recognised them!"

Lady Sefton gave a thin smile.

"I am given to understand that recognising the originals was a game played in society when the play was new" she said. "You favour the French style of gown I see?"

"Yes ma'am; it suits my figure better for otherwise I fear I look like a boy dressed in girl's clothes" said Peter. "It is besides simpler; and I am not fond of too many frou-frous."

This indeed was one of her most decorated gowns; it was a snowy white muslin round gown trimmed with mechlin lace gathered onto the neckline, all the way round, in a nod to the excesses of kerchiefs and lace still prevailing in Britain; and the same lace trimmed the skirt near the hem, with ribbon flowers at intervals around it and the fabric sprigged all over in self-colour embroidery. Peter's hair was caught up in a white silk scarf as suggested by Madame de Frontenac and a white ostrich feather curled right over the top of her head from the sapphire pin at the scarf's knot. She had worn a spencer to the theatre which she had removed indoors, which was white velvet; and might be, Peter said, dyed when it became difficult to keep so white. She looked modish yet modest; for there was enough fabric gathered into the bodice of her high waisted gown not to make it cling too tightly as some French gowns did.

"Looks like a slender lily, wot?" said Sir Percy.

"Very nice effect" said Lady Sefton "Is it true you slapped a man in St James' Park?"

Peter resisted the urge to say 'no, I slapped him on the face'.

"To prevent a fight; yes ma'am" said Peter "He had a quarrel with my escort; there were high words unprovoked; and as I was interposing my horse between them to protest that I had no desire to listen to a squabble fit only for the schoolroom the man involved had started to try to press quarrel on my escort with a slap – FINE behaviour before a lady – and it landed on me. It seemed to me that if I slapped him back, neither my escort or any of the other young men, my brother's friends, would feel the need to say or do anything rash. Was I wrong? He was very ashamed of himself for striking a lady and apologised for causing me offence."

"In those circumstances it is a quite laudable act; I shall explain the full circumstances to my fellow Patronesses who were concerned lest you have an ungovernable temper. But as this play points out, listening to tattle is a futile exercise. I shall be quite happy to put your name forward for Almack's. I shall get the voucher to you by Wednesday."

"Thank you very much, Lady Sefton" said Peter, dropping another curtsey of acknowledgement.

She was grateful for the kindnesses people did her; though it was almost routine for a Viscount's sister to be accepted unless she had any breath of scandal attached to her. Slapping Armand had already spread however; well, if a lady slapped a man and subsequently he left the scene and others did not, most people would draw their own conclusions over how offensive he must have been. She hid a grin as the curtain went up and wondered how much of the gossip centred on St Just having made an improper comment to her. His slap of hers had, apparently, been missed by whoever had told tales to the patronesses of Almack's; and though she did not really care much if she went or no, it would hurt Froggie if she were blackballed, and would not do her position in society any good at all.

She settled back to watch the second act, glad that Lady Sefton had asked for the true circumstances; and that she had noted and appreciated that Peter had kept all names out of it.

_Lady Sefton was one of the famous patronesses of that exclusive and selective marriage mart, Almack's; but she was the only one from the list who was a patroness as early as 1795__. unfortunately there is no information that I could find on any other patronesses at this date though those of the regency era are well known. _


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37 Peter's Phaeton**

Jimmy sallied out next morning to purchase for his sister a Phaeton, so that she might drive her lady friends as well as Chauvelin around since Peter had mentioned how nice it would be to take Rose driving. He dithered over a high-perch phaeton for his sister, there being one on offer from a baron whose pockets were to let; and decided that Rose might not like it and it would, besides, he harder to lift the crippled girl into it. He settled for a Phaeton with a comfortably slung seat well forward, the way he liked to drive that had, unusually, a seat behind, on which Peter might have her abigail or groom or both if she was driving with Chauvelin. It was not so comfortable a seat as the front seat but it was a useful adjunct when one had to be careful of a madcap creature like Peter. Pleased with his purchase he then set out for Tattersall's to see what he might purchase in terms of a matched pair. He fell in with another member of the League, Sir Philip Glynde, who was hoping to sell a pair of bays and replace them with a matched set of four short-stepping chestnuts that he had his eye on.

They came quickly to a private arrangement and Sir Philip went on his way gladly to purchase his four.

"Sweet goers they are" he said enthusiastically to Froggie "You may keep your high steppers; showy enough and excellent for a lady who knows how to handle the ribbons for town work; but for speed and distance, short steppers every time."

Froggie nodded agreement; but Peter had no need of horses trained to take short fast steps, not just to tool about town; and Glynde's high stepping bays would do her very well.

Peter was delighted and Froggie was rewarded with a cry of delight and a kiss on the cheek. Nothing would do Peter but that she must drive out and visit Rose as soon as possible; and Froggie put his foot down and demanded that they eat nuncheon first since it would be most impolite to interrupt Rose at her meal.

"Besides my dear, have you even LOOKED at all the invitations and decided which ones to accept?" he demanded. Invitations had been arriving steadily.

"Oh yes" said Peter "What do you think I've been in a brown study over all morning? I accepted all the ones from League members, politely regretted the ones that clashed, asked Gerard who I could NOT refuse, rejected any others that clashed, and accepted any of the rest I rolled crabs or double six for."

"As good a way as any I suppose" said Froggie dubiously "Here, you'd better let me check the ones you rejected to make sure none of them ought to have been accepted."

"Too late" said Peter "I wrote all the letters while you were out; and I have writer's cramp. I ASKED Gerard about all of them; including the rejects over League members. And he said that none of your friends would organise balls, routs or anything if there was an important social gathering because they would know that weeks in advance."

"Hurrah for Gerard the paradigm of social knowledge" said Jimmy weakly "And I say that was rather bright of you Peter; because butlers do know just about everything."

-/-

Rose was delighted at the idea of a drive if a little nervous of going out in a high bodied vehicle like a phaeton; but Peter promised to drive carefully and her friend begged so hard to be permitted to go that her parents had not the heart to say no; and her father himself lifted her tenderly in and Peter adjusted a rug about her and the warm brick at her feet that her maman suggested, for the weather still had a chill to it. With a fur lined hood and a muff, Rose declared herself cosy; and Peter tooled her team past her brother's house in Bloomsbury and out into the countryside beyond, explaining to Rose that when she was a very little girl, she recalled that one might see fields from the top floors of their house, but that London was growing so fast it took all of ten minutes driving to start to see the countryside!

In deference to her friend Peter bowled along at no more than seven miles an hour, a nice sedate pace, she said, and a pleasant way to experience the scenery. Rose found it alarmingly speedy so high up; but with the enchanting country views – she missed the country of Lou Mas – she soon forgot her nerves and chatted contentedly about what they could see.

"Fast curricle behind us Miss Petronilla" called Hobbes from the back of the Phaeton; Peter raised a hand in acknowledgement and pulled over to the left to give room for the curricle to pass. She looped the whip and caught the end as she directed her pair to the side, which pretty piece of work earned her an approving nod from the nonesuch driving the curricle, and a grin from his diminutive tiger perched precariously on the board behind.

"Dear me, how exceedingly fast he is going! I should be afraid to go that fast!" said Rose.

"Yes I daresay he is going at quite eleven miles an hour" said Peter "I thought about a curricle rather than a phaeton, but you know it's a bit of a waste in town; the traffic is so congested that one would be forever having to negotiate other vehicles and that takes away the advantage of a fast carriage. How are you bearing up?"

"Quite well; but I am getting a little tired" said Rose honestly.

"Then we shall find a place to turn and I shall see you back home; can't have you getting knocked up, or your parents will, quite rightly, refuse to let you go another time!" said Peter.

The yard of a small inn was ideal; and Peter sent Hobbes to procure a dish of tea for them if it was to be had, or a cup of coffee; and a heavy wet for himself if he wished it.

Hobbes brought out glasses of lemonade.

"This was the best they could do I'm afraid, Miss Petronilla; It's still hot, I had them make it fresh. Did I do right to use my loaf?"

"Quite right, Hobbes; it can be thirsty work driving in this chill air" said Peter. "If you are satisfied, Rose?"

"Oh perfectly!" said Rose "How odd it tastes hot; but most pleasant I have to say. With a pinch of ginger I should think it would be very pleasant to soothe the throat if one had a cold!"

"You must try it and let me know" said Peter; who had never had a cold in her life. Poor Rose was sickly; for being so helpless and immobile she was unfit too and prone to catch any little disease that came her way. But she was of philosophical disposition and though many a girl in her situation would have dwelt on such misfortune, with her own ill health as a favourite topic of conversation, Rose rarely eluded to it; and indeed this was the first time she had mentioned to Peter any propensity for colds. Peter thought her pluck to the backbone, and kissed her warmly on the cheek before they started off again.

Warmed and refreshed, Rose felt more than equal for the return journey; and though she was somewhat pulled on the return her eyes were shining, and her mother readily granted permission for her to go another time!

-/-

Peter was glad that she had left Rose at home when she had to pull up the horses for the obstruction in the road.

The obstruction was a man beating a dog that was harnessed to a small cart in which its master was transporting fish; and the poor creature, which was of no discernible breed but might have been – as Peter said when she later described the encounter to Froggie – part bear. The fish cart was heavy for even a big dog; and had become lodged on a loose cobble; and Peter tossed the reins to Hobbes in a trice where he had moved to sit, arms crossed, beside her, and jumped down as quickly as one might from such a vehicle and hampered by skirts. At least a driving gown was not too full, and permitted enough movement without any encumbering folds or extra length like a riding habit, Peter reflected.

"Stop that AT ONCE!" she demanded.

The fishmonger turned, looked her up and down, made a false assessment about a lady out driving without a gentleman escort and gave her his brief, uncomplimentary and vernacular opinion.

Peter, who only followed about half of his opinion but could guess the rest, lost her temper and laid all her weight behind a straight blow from the shoulder.

The fish monger went down like a sack of potatoes.

"Heh, THAT was a wisty caster, Miss Petronilla!" cried Hobbes delighted "Oh it would have delighted the old man to see that; WHAT will your brother say?"

"He'll say I had no choice; I could hardly call the fellow out, could I?" said Miss Petronilla, rubbing her sore knuckles. "Lud, Mendoza the Jew must have hard knuckles!"

"Ah, and he'll need them against Jackson tomorrow" predicted Hobbes "What are you going to do next miss? Only we've attracted a crowd."

The crowd, on the whole, were in a favourable mood, cheering 'Miss' for taking on and darkening the daylights of a known bully.

"You shall tell this creature when he awakens that his cart is stuck on a stone; as he may find when he comes to pull it himself" said Peter "He doesn't deserve to have a dog; I'm going to take it away and see to its poor wounds. Here is ten shillings to cover the cost of the dog; see that he gets it for I'll not steal from him, nor will I pay him in his own kind" she added, breaking the man's whip.

"Heh, lady, he won't never be able to bully nobody never again" cried an urchin "Not when he's had his cork drawn by a lady what's half his size!"

Peter hid a fierce grin of exultation as she undid the harness on the unfortunate dog, talking softly to it, and stroking its head. The poor creature was sagging in the traces, but tried to give her hand a half hearted lick.

"What a poor ugly creature you are!" said Peter "I shall call you Citizen Rateau for I'm sure you have no proper name; I doubt that fishy fellow could manage to remember his own name if it were not shouted at him, let alone name a dog. Hobbes, I fear Rateau is too heavy for me to lift; if I take the ribbons, of your goodness perhaps you will place him in the rear seat."

"Yes Miss Petronilla" said Hobbes who knew it was no point arguing with Miss Petronilla if she had mind to help an injured animal or child.

"He do be a good ratter by all accounts miss, so Ratter be a good name for him" called the urchin. Peter raised a hand; she could not expect these poor of London to recognise a foreign name; let them think the dog was to be named for his virtues.

With the unfortunate beast ensconced on the back seat, and Hobbes' assistance to remount to the high seat, Peter drove round the obstructing cart and the now groaning fishmonger with a flourish and a precision that did not even touch the wheels of the fish cart. The watching crowd gave her a ragged cheer.

"You'll be wanting to stop in the next street for me to get meat, Miss?" asked Hobbes.

"If that's where the nearest butcher's shop is" said Peter.

Hobbes laid down some of the meat for the injured dog, who gave a polite wag of the tail and strove to eat. He was plainly hungry; and equally plainly too hurt and tired to manage much.

"Poor old fellow" crooned Peter, reaching back to pull his ears gently before driving on.

-/-

Hobbes shouted for a stableboy to see to the equipage when they got back to Froggie's townhouse; and tenderly carried Citizen Rateau into the salon where Froggie and Chauvelin sat convivially reading the papers together, rising in the presence of a lady.

"Egad!" said Froggie "I believe I'm lost for words."

"Exit bear pursued by a lady" murmured Chauvelin.

Peter filled them in on her adventures.

"I say! That sounds like a really scientific right!" said Froggie; then he remembered himself. "Not the thing to do at all" he added hastily "Dash it all, a lady doesn't darken the daylights of tradesmen; should have got Hobbes to do it."

"Miss Petronilla has more science than I do" said Hobbes coming back with warm water to bathe the dog's wounds "It was a lovely blow your lordship; never seen a nicer."

"Don't encourage her Hobbes" said Froggie. "Peter, do you WANT to put off Armand when I've got you as good as leg-shackled to him?"

"Nothing will either surprise me or put me off your lovely sister, Froggie" said Chauvelin "Just be pleased she did not er, deliver a wisty caster to the um, bone box of St Just."

"Thunder an' turf that WOULD have been the devil to pay; at least if you must be pulling caps with someone that violently at least it wasn't in front of any of the Ton!" said Froggie, much moved.

"Can I go with you to watch Jackson fight Mendoza?" asked Peter "If I need to be a boy, being able to describe it would be useful; and it's not going to be a mill with such accredited fighters."

"Are you out of your mind?" said Froggie. "No, don't answer that; you've been dicked in the nob all your life. Armand can't you do anything with her?"

"I should prefer that you did not go, ma mie; though I do take your point that to be able to describe it would be a convincer that you were a boy" said Chauvelin "If you insist I too shall accompany you."

"Heh, if my brother takes his French friend, why don't I go along as your tiger?" said Peter "And nobody will take a second glance at me. Give me experience of acting that role too" she added.

"I say; it's a thought" said Froggie "Your dog appears to be looking a little better; he's interested in that bowl of food."

Soothing bathing of his wounds, warmth, and having had the chance to rest had done wonders for Rateau; and he struggled over to his food bowl.

"It is a rather appropriate name" murmured Chauvelin. "An outsize mongrel of a creature with a pathetic look to him; Sir Percy will be highly amused I'm sure. So are we going to this wretched mill?"

"Well I was" said Froggie "All right; I'll take you, so long as you can change quickly after the levée you're attending at Lady Bathurst's tomorrow."

"I'll get a costume as your tiger laid out this evening" said Peter.

Chauvelin sighed.

"Well I dare say it will be instructive" he said.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38 A Levée and a new friend**

Lucille was an enthusiastic conspirator in laying out a livery for a tiger, a nondescript brown wig in the conservative queue that was considered suitable for liveried servants, and would be ready to help Miss Peter make a quick change.

"Though I can't for the life of me see why you should wish to go and see a nasty brawl, miss" she said.

"The point is that it should not be a brawl" said Peter "There should be order, method and science in the fighting; from which I may learn techniques as well as being able to describe it for a few purple patches to any background story I want; and too I may learn some techniques so that as a street urchin I may get out of trouble by knowing how to hurt unpleasant people more that they hurt me because my size is against me."

"Oh I see, miss" said Lucille "You had better teach me how to fight for when we go to France."

"You really are one of the best, Lucille" approved Peter "I'll teach you to ply a sword too; it won't go amiss."

-/-

First however was the levée; and as they dined at the early hour of no later than nine o'clock the previous evening, for having no other engagements, Peter declared that she needed something to keep her going until the late breakfast at Lady Bathurst's and tucked into broiled eggs salamandered with relish, followed by gammon and spinach, of which she fed surreptitious portions to Citizen Rateau under the table until the wagging of his tail bruised Froggie's legs so much – he declared – that he ordered the dog to go and lie down by the hearth.

Rateau obliged; he felt that he was in clover, and had even submitted to a bath this morning that Hobbes had firmly given him, feeling that Miss Petronilla's chances of being permitted to keep her ugly pet would be improved if he were clean and free of fleas. His whip cuts were healing nicely, even just overnight, with the rapid facility for healing animals often had; though he had plenty of sores, and painful pads to his paws as well; and wagged his tail when Peter anointed his sores with soothing creams of honey and comfrey that she had brought from her own stillroom. Peter had been firmly introduced to stillroom skills at an early age by the Housekeeper of Frogham Hall; and with the number of scrapes she and Froggie had managed to get into between them considered it a worthwhile skill. There was a deep rivalry between Mrs Pettiman, the Hall housekeeper, and Meg, the village wise woman, Mrs Pettiman considering Meg to be little better than a witch and Meg thinking Mrs Pettiman to be la-di-dah; so between their desire to outdo each other in the eyes of the Little Miss, Peter had acquired folk knowledge and traditional knowledge both. Rateau was the gainer from this; and was a much happier, more comfortable animal to be free of itches, soothed in his pains, and with a full belly probably for the first time in his life. He gave a sigh of contentment and subsided for all the world, said Froggie, laughing, like a hot air balloon that had landed and had the air let out of its bag.

"That's something I should like to do" said Peter "Ascend in a hot air balloon. Don't the more advanced ones use hydrogen?"

"Haven't a clue" said Froggie "Ask Armand; he probably knows. Veritable Chamber's Cyclopaedia our Armand"

"I shall" said Peter cheerfully. "Have some gammon."

"Don't mind if I do" said Froggie "It's going to be a long time to ten o'clock for breakfast; we don't want to spoil the conversation with unseemly gurgles."

"If I'd said that you'd have ticked me off for being unladylike" said Peter.

"Yes; but stands to reason I can't be ladylike nowise" said Froggie. "Your cur looks a lot better this morning."

"Hobbes bathed him; he's a pretty sort of light tan under all the grime" said Peter. "No, Rateau, stay there; lie down sir"

Rateau, who had stood up in case he was wanted lay down again, thumped his tail a couple of times and went to sleep. He was in doggy heaven!

-/-

Lady Bathurst was delighted to receive a new debutant at one of her popular levées; and bade Peter to make herself at home. Peter was glad she had eaten already; the meal seemed sparse to a girl who was, essentially, used to living the life of a country squiredom where breaking one's fast was an important matter before the main business of the morning was embarked upon; every morning Peter expected to help exercise the horses, see the household accounts, discuss the day's menus and receive the petitions of any of the tenants who were in need. Weekly she would ride around the estates and check any needs not brought by petition and make sure she was acquainted with every tenant and villager; and generally her rides first thing would take her around the village where anything untoward would be likely to catch her eye. She and Froggie generally did this together when he was at the Hall; and while she wrestled with the accounts and the ordering of food he would discuss matters with his bailiff and see to any outdoor matters. Froggie was used to the Town routine however and did not turn a hair at thin sliced meat and bread and buttered eggs as the extent of the meal.

Armand St Just was there and he came across to Peter and bowed punctiliously.

"I apologise again for my bad behaviour the other day" he said "I trust I am forgiven?"

"Oh I put such things out of my head for the good of all" said Peter.

"Mademoiselle is quite charming!" said St Just "Permit me to introduce you to a man who has helped me much adapt to living in England; he is eager to meet so beautiful and charming a young lady. Miss Holte, this is the Honourable Aubery Gyrth; Gyrth, the Honourable Miss Holte "

Peter raised an eyebrow; she had not been particularly charming towards St Just and she thought his speech extravagant.

The other man bowed. Peter thought him to be close to Chauvelin's age; rather nearer forty than thirty, though he obviously took a great deal of care over his appearance. Even so, Peter thought the signs of dissipation that marred an otherwise handsome face made him look a good deal older than her Armand, who was recovering from all the strain and privation; and privately thought that to dress in the height of fashion was a mistake, especially when wearing fabrics that were not of the best quality.

"How do you do" said Peter.

"The better for making your acquaintance Miss Holte" said the would-be exquisite, bowing deeply and kissing her hand. Peter felt faintly nauseated.

"Have you known M. St Just long?" asked Peter politely.

"Oh I have known him forever!" said Mr Gyrth.

"Yes, you may meet Gyrth anywhere" said St Just.

"Indeed; as I appear to have done" said Peter with faint irony.

Politeness meant that the men had to retire to sit down for breakfast; and Peter chatted to the girl who was sitting next to her, a rather insipid child called Cecily who was also a debutante. Gyrth managed to address the odd remark across the table, commenting on the fine but cold weather and Peter firmly spoke of how the bitter wind was to be deplored if horses were left standing, and hoped that the gentlemen who would be heading for Hornchurch this afternoon might be sure and take blankets for their teams.

"Why are they going to Hornchurch this afternoon?" asked Cecily.

"Because there's a fight they all want to watch; you have no brothers who talk about such things I conjecture" said Peter.

Cecily flushed.

"I do have brothers but they would not dare mention such horrid things in front of mama or me!" she said "I wonder that your mama permits it!"

"She doesn't have a lot of say in the matter; being dead" said Peter, dryly.

This, for poor Cecily, was a conversation stopper and she subsided into silence. Peter felt a little guilty for letting her tongue loose on so poor a peagoose; and made amends by drawing the girl back into conversation on the subject of the superiority of round gowns over apron-fronted gowns and listened with half an indulgent ear to the girl eulogising about her wardrobe whilst also following a hot discussion on the new raised tax on letters. Being a member of the House of Lords, Froggie could always frank letters for his sister, but Peter liked to keep abreast of what was going on. She also listened with half an ear to the young Naval officer discussing the tedium of blockade duty, and the irritations that the Dutch had now joined the war on the French side. It was going to be hard to slip across to France to rescue people in light of the tight British blockade; one might too easily be taken for smugglers. Sir Percy seemed to manage but then he was probably known to the majority of captains of at least first and second raters, probably smaller ships too; and was doubtless considered a fribble whose presence was too irritating to bother to stop the _Day Dream_ for the displeasure of a sartorial lecture from a dandy.

The breakfast was over at last and Froggie pleaded an engagement in the afternoon – as did most of the gentlemen – and the party broke up quickly. It was already eleven o'clock, the breakfast having begun at ten; and Froggie was bemoaning that he would have to go looking a very shagbag since he could scarcely wear morning clothes to a fight. He did however calm down a little on their hasty return to the house when Peter handed him one of her carefully concocted neckties to pin on.

"Demme, if it isn't cheating entirely" said Froggie "Amazing idea! How like a girl!"

"Well if you don't want to wear it….." said Peter.

"Never said that; stap me, it's brilliant!" said Froggie.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39 Jackson versus Mendoza**

"Strictly speaking" said Froggie, by way of instruction to both Chauvelin and Peter as they drove north to Essex "It was Dan Mendoza who invented the scientific way of boxing; it seems hard now to recall that boxers used just to stand still and exchange blows, but it is his methods I've taught you, Peter, of ducking and weaving and blocking and using your feet and your wits as well as your fists. That's why he's been champion for the last three years; though he's no heavyweight; why; he's hardly any taller or heavier than you, Armand."

"I do not, however, believe I shall be taking up boxing" said Chauvelin "Though it may be instructive to acquire some defensive moves."

"Always useful to know" agreed Froggie. "The money's on Mendoza; though Jackson's a big fellow, not quite as big as Sir Percy; he's not favoured because he hasn't fought for five years since he injured his leg fighting The Brewer – George Ingleston – and had to concede even though he was showing better. Everyone's talking about Jackson but Mendoza has the speed on him, surely!"

"Are then any rules?" asked Chauvelin.

"Oh yes! Each round lasts until a man goes down; then he may rest thirty seconds and if he can't go on he is held to have lost. You may not hit a man when he is down, nor grab him by the breeches or below the waist, nor may you kick" said Froggie "Wrestling is fine; you may try to throw someone with a hip lock or trip them and hope they injure themselves in the fall. Personally I think that the wrestling style will one day become a sport in itself; there are potential intricacies to it. You'll see."

-/-

Thousands had come to see the match; the crowds were overwhelming. Froggie paid entrance fee and they took their places with the rest of the crowd in the convenient hollow in which the twenty-four foot stage had been erected. They were barely in time; each of the boxers had mounted the stage with his second and bottle holder and the two referees followed. Mendoza's flowing, crisp hair was a contrast to the shaved head of Jackson; he looked very small next to the big athlete, but the muscles of his chest and arms were like whipcord. The odds were five to four in his favour. Froggie put some money on Mendoza but Peter did not care to bet; she just wanted to see the skill she had heard so much about.

The pugilists bowed and were both cheered wildly; then they were ready to begin.

The fight started with a lot of circling and experimental jabbing blows; no real hits occurred until a full minute had passed, when Jackson caught his opponent and Mendoza went down.

The next round belonged entirely to Mendoza who made some punishing hits; Peter noted every detail of the smaller fighter's technique. Jackson came away hurt, but not enough to concede. The next round followed with a lot of blows falling from both; though Mendoza seemed to have the edge, and judging by the shouting the odds on him had risen; such that his supporters cried out in shock when it was Mendoza who went down.

Jackson seemed to have nothing but contempt for his opponent; blows landed furiously on the smaller man in the next round, leaving him with a cut eye on the last blow, on which the current champion fell. And in the following round, Jackson grabbed Mendoza by his long hair to hold him and pound him; Peter was not the only one shouting 'FOUL!' but when Mendoza went down, the referees conferred and one of them announced that none of the established rules had been broken. Mendoza looked defeated; though he got up to fight on. He was entirely on the defensive however; and lost the next four rounds, while Jackson pressed home his advantage. And then Mendoza conceded after Jackson used one of Mendoza's own tactics against him and caught the smaller man in the kidneys, making him void his bladder and fall in agony as Mendoza had, as Froggie told Peter, described in his own book on pugilism. The whole fight had lasted but ten and a half minutes.

Jackson leaped lightly off the stage; but Mendoza was in something of a bad way and had to be assisted.

"It's a diabolical shame that hair holding should be permitted" said Peter, whose eyes had filled with tears.

"It is in the rules though" said Froggie regretfully "You could say, I suppose, that Mendoza's vanity defeated him; and in a way one ought to realise the moment one sees a boxer with a shaven head that it's because hair holding is a tactic he favours rather than because he had a large number of wigs he likes to show off; especially in this day and age when wigs are so very _suranné_."

-/-

There was to be another bout with two lesser boxers; but Froggie wisely suggested leaving.

Peter was grateful; she had found it interesting but still rather rough, even with the employment of science there had been a measure of brutality that she had disliked.

"I am glad to have seen it" she said "But I shall be equally pleased not to see any more."

"Likewise ma mie" said Chauvelin "I was however gladdened to see the egality of the crowd; the lowest rubbing shoulders with the highest in perfect accord, which I find an encouraging feature of English sport."

"I hadn't considered that" said Froggie. "Not really for females though, of any estate; even Peter looks rather harrowed! You're done in my dear; will you sleep before going to Almack's tonight?"

"You know, Froggie, I believe I will" said Peter "Being a tiger is deucedly uncomfortable and fatiguing; and I confess I was much upset by the way Jackson won."

_when I realised that my timeline actually had the most famous fight of the century within it I just could not resist including it; authors like Heyer refer to it and it seemed too good an opportunity to miss._


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40 At Almack's**

Almack's!

Peter was nervous indeed to be presented at Almack's; to be under the scrutiny of the most stringent of the arbiters of society; and she determined to be very careful.

She was extremely pleased that various members of the League rallied around once again to ease her through the ordeal; and she danced cheerfully and without self-consciousness with all of them, consequently presenting a picture of a young girl who was neither coy nor excessively coming in her manners since she treated them all with openness and friendliness without engaging to flirt at all. Lady Sefton deigned to compliment her on her manner towards these young men of fashion.

"Oh it's not really a virtue, Lady Sefton" said Peter earnestly "They are friends of my brother, so it is like dancing with my brother you know; no very great hardship."

So artless a speech did her no harm in the eyes of the patroness; who had seen all too many young women who did all they could to coquet and fix the attention of any unattached young man of affluent circumstance regardless of whether he were a friend of the family or not. She considered Peter quite ingenuous; which in many ways, of course, the girl was.

-/-

The males present were of course itching to discuss the match between Mendoza and Jackson; and must needs keep any thoughts and opinions on the subject to themselves for such matters were NOT discussed in Almack's. Many of them would of course go on to their men's clubs and would re-fight the match blow by blow in words until the sun rose; but the obligatory duty to Almack's must be done first. And it may be said that the young men of the League who attended did it out of duty to Peter as this was her first visit; which was indeed a loyal devotion to duty. And Peter, who had some idea that they were there for her sake made sure to thank each warmly for the dance.

Suzanne Ffoulkes it may be said asked Peter whether her brother could talk of anything else but that nasty fight; and Peter cheerfully said that he had done nothing but mutter that it was time the rules were changed to forbid the holding of hair.

"They itch to get away to discuss it" said Suzanne "Shall we leave early and permit the horrid wretches to get it out of their systems?"

"Wise I think" said Peter "I am not averse to an early night in any case; I do like to rise early. Shall we extract our respective menfolk then and plead diplomatic headaches?"

"Oh I think so" said Suzanne "They may escort us home and then meet to discuss it in all its gory detail."

Peter duly pleaded that the excitement of the Season proved too much for her since she was not used to the late nights; and Froggie told her she was a demmed good girl.

"What did you think of Almack's then?" he asked.

"They water the lemonade shamefully" said Peter "And the chamber pots are hidden so deep in the recesses of the sideboards that you almost drop them getting them out and are in a nervous kerfuffle in case any man comes in to use them."

"At least you get to hide all that sort of thing under your skirts" retorted Froggie "we men are nervous of being caught by ladies while all is on display; I think it's why they have footmen lurking, to divert members of the opposite sex until the room is vacant."

"I prefer places with earth closets outside where one may go to 'cool one's face'" said Peter.

"And as fit a subject for a young lady as boxing" said Froggie severely.

-/-

Once having visited Almack's the invitations increased in number; and Peter needed Froggie to tell her which to choose and which to discard; and they were out every night of the week at this ball or that rout, or the next masque. Peter attended only one masque as it happened; since Froggie was quite strict on the matter and told her that it was not something the patronesses of Almack's thought quite nice, save with a totally controlled environment; and since Sir Percy was giving a masquerade ball, she might attend that since it would be by invitation only; and Lady Blakeney would not permit anyone to attend who was not perfectly all right. Peter enjoyed herself at the masque, guessing who was who; and seeing how close she was at the unmasking at midnight. Chauvelin had come in the most unrelieved black as a plain domino; and she knew his mannerisms so well, she was easily able to pick him out and claim him as her partner for the evening; and Sir Percy's height was something of an obvious feature to his character as a cavalier; Marguerite's hair was of a distinctive shade and Peter was pleased that between them, she and Armand managed to pick out most of the rest. Peter had gone as Pierrette; there were a sufficiency of harlequins who wished to dance with her but she spent as much time as she might with her sable-clad lover.

Peter and Chauvelin both preferred rout parties; they might at times be something of a squeeze, but the chance to chat about various subjects with a variety of people and listen to music was, Peter thought, preferable to interminable dancing, which might be amusing on occasion but was, she felt rather tedious night after night.

And often she found herself next to Aubery Gyrth at the functions she attended; though she managed more often than not to plead a partner already when he asked her to dance, and drew others into conversation at routs. He had NOT been at Marguerite's masque, though St Just had been there, despite his declared intent never to attend any function where he might meet Chauvelin; and he had glared at Armand Chauvelin at the unmasking, during which he and Peter were standing close together.

Peter made an effort to get to know Jeanne Lange, St Just's lady love; and found her a delightful and unaffected girl. She thought, but did not say, that St Just did not deserve so sweet a lady. Mlle Lange did not have a voucher for Almack's; being an actress she was frowned upon in such society and St Just was too close to the fringes of society to make up for his betrothed being decidedly of the demi-mondaine. Marguerite Blakeney was a sufficient leader of fashion, a friend of too many important people not to be given the credit for being the perfectly respectable wife of a wealthy baronet; but her brother was another matter. Had Sir Percy made enough moves, then Armand St Just might have been admitted to the hallowed halls of Almack's; but Sir Percy had never considered it necessary. Peter reflected that it was actually quite interesting to see who did have a voucher; and who did not. And wondering why those who did not had not attained this honour was an interesting business.

So far as Gyrth was concerned she had her answer from Sir Andrew Ffoulkes after she had been unable to avoid a dance with Gyrth at a private ball; when Sir Andrew said,

"I say, Peter, I'm sure you know what you're doing but if I was you I shouldn't have anything to do with Aubery Gyrth."

"I try not to" said Peter "But I've refused to dance with him on one pretext or another seven times in a row now – he was counting even if I wasn't – and it seemed very impolite to refuse him again when I didn't have any reasonable excuse and moreover none of my excellent gallants were at hand to lie cheerfully about me being already engaged to dance with them. If he wasn't an Earl's son I'd say he was a mushroom."

"Earl's younger son and disowned at that" said Sir Andrew grimly "And there are those of us who call him the DIShonourable Mr Gyrth. He's drowning in the river tick, and up to his ears with the cent-per-centers; and his main reason for attending the season is to catch an heiress. He's a gazetted fortune hunter; and you're as fine an heiress as any in Town because as I recall your Aunt Petronilla married a nabob who had the good taste to die before he ran through all his fortune trying to keep up with the ton and when you marry you'll be as warm as they come; positively full of juice. And though I'd hate to call you a green girl, you're not up to all the rigs and rows in town and he's a dashed loose screw. Tried to elope with an heiress a couple of years ago but they were caught up with before they got too far because the girl actually told a girl friend that she was running off with her lover; which was fortunate but proves her a total peagoose to trust such a secret to another girl as green as herself."

"He sounds shockingly loose in the haft; what a widgeon that girl sounds! Why ever did she want to elope with him? Was she so ugly she felt there was no other choice?"

Sir Andrew laughed.

"You shouldn't use expressions like that; Froggie is too careless! But I see the fellow's vaunted charm of address has completely passed you by m'dear; apparently he is reckoned rather romantic; haven't you seen some of the silly chits scowl at you when he singles you out?"

"I can't say I had; because I don't WANT to be singled out" said Peter. "Have these females more hair than wit?"

"I fear so" said Sir Andrew "And he is a romantic wronged figure, disowned by his father for a few gambling debts…. That he forged a note of hand does NOT usually come up in conversation."

"Ah well, if he tries to dance with me again I can legitimately refuse on the grounds that I've heard about him" said Peter. "Odd though; St Just introduced me to him. But then I suppose as a Frenchman he might not have heard all the on-dits about the peccadilloes of everyone on the town; and sees him merely as a convivial companion. He has odd tastes; but then St Just is an odd sort of fellow."

"Mmm" said Sir Andrew non-committally.

-/-

Sir Andrew tackled Armand St Just outright.

"What's the idea of introducing Petronilla Holte to a fellow like Gyrth?" he asked.

St Just scowled.

"I don't care much for your tone in that question" he said "What's wrong with Gyrth? You may meet him anywhere."

"Yes; a certain Mr Pickering-Smythe met him in an inn on the Great North Road abducting his daughter a few years ago" said Sir Andrew. "Fellow's a loose fish!"

"Scarcely worse than Chauvelin; and you all encourage HIM around her" growled St Just "To him abductions are a commonplace; and threats and lies."

"The difference being that Chauvelin believed he was acting out of patriotism until he had his eyes forcibly opened" said Sir Andrew. "Gyrth hasn't a feather to fly with and he's dangling for a rich wife. Just a word of warning to pick your friends a little more carefully. Still, he's not going to manage to cut a wheedle with Peter; she wasn't born yesterday! And for your information she dislikes him intensely. If I were you, I'd warn your friend away."

"I'll do as I please" said St Just. Sir Andrew shrugged. He had given him every chance.

_Apparently when I was a toddler I always asked to use the toilet in every new place we went to inspect it and I have retained an interest in drains and the practicalities of life. There is no information I can find about what to do if caught short at those interminably long balls; but as in the more robustly frank periods before our period it was the custom to have a chamberpot in a cabinet for the convenience of guests I am guessing that this would not have changed; and as earth closets outside go back at least to the Tudor period I cannot see why there should be any reason that this custom should have stopped between then and the Victorian period even if not written about. And it also strikes me that 'cooling one's face' would be a very convenient euphemism to cover a visit to the same even as later one 'powdered one's nose'. _


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41 The St Petersburg Boar Hound**

Citizen Rateau had been met and approved by most of the League; he was improving in health and strength daily, and Sir Percy had laughingly mentioned that he at least wore his hair fashionably in disorder Au Titus; and they dubbed him 'The St Petersburg Boar Hound' when trying to guess what manner of dog he might be. Rateau had taken to all Mistress' friends, even Chauvelin who claimed to prefer cats but admitted that a clever big dog to guard Peter was not such a bad thing to have around, and petted the animal for Peter's sake. And when Sir Percy came to call and found Chauvelin sprawled perforce in a big chair with the hound asleep on his lap the captive Frenchman remarked,

"It seems my permanent lot in life to be trampled underfoot by Citizen Rateau", and the Scarlet Pimpernel laughed his merry laugh and declared,

"Why I do commend your humour, my friend; and your indulgence of that mongrel beast. Though I'd not like to be anyone who tried to harm Peter."

"He has shown a remarkable facility in growling at those she dislikes" said Chauvelin. "And he's an excellent carriage dog; took to running between the back wheels of her carriage for all the world like those Dalmatian dogs that are bred to it; and walks to heel when she strolls out. I like him for the fact that he's so obviously plebeian; it pleases my republican soul.

"No, no my friend; an obvious aristocrat amongst dogs. Unique indeed; you will never find another St Petersburg Boar Hound in all of London!" cried Sir Percy.

"You won't find any such in the rest of the world" retorted Chauvelin.

The St Petersburg Boar Hound awoke to the sound of voices, perceived one of his other favourite people and was over by Sir Percy in a bound with his tail wagging nineteen to the dozen.

"Intelligent beast" quoth Sir Percy, scratching his ears.

"That intelligent beast has wrought horrors to my internal organs" groaned Chauvelin once he had his breath back.

-/-/-/-

The sight of the Honourable Miss Holte tooling her phaeton through London, or out into the country alone but for her groom or with passengers with the big hound running faithfully beneath the rear wheels of her vehicle was soon well known; and it caused a mild sensation amongst those ladies who considered a lap dog appropriate to carry with them but who balked at anything so large as Rateau, who stood quite three feet at the shoulder and was muscular withal.

And Chauvelin and Peter laughed and laughed when returning from a drive together – properly chaperoned by Lucille as well as Hobbes – to find that Gyrth had come calling with flowers; and Rateau shot silently out from under the phaeton and went for him; and saw him off down the road howling with fear and with a large portion of his shirt hanging out from where Rateau had

removed a considerable portion of his lemon inexpressibles.

Rateau carried his trophy proudly into the house and proceeded to bury it in his bed; and he was made much of by Peter.

Armand St Just came to call and ask in hurt tones what had made Miss Holte set dangerous animals on his friend. The dangerous animal stood in front of his mistress and growled a warning.

"I didn't need to set Citizen Rateau on that fellow; he is an intelligent hound and perceived at once that such a creature would be unwelcome" said Peter sweetly. "Of course you are an alien in London and doubtless naïve in your willingness to trust; but really, one should drop you a kindly word of caution about your friends, M. St Just! NOT quite the thing you know; only I don't quite know how to warn you about him without using phrases a lady should blush to understand. Perhaps if I say, 'in the haft' and 'loose' and suggest you team the two half phrases in your own mind I may save my maidenly blushes."

"Rather" said Froggie "And what you mean by introducing that loose fish to m'sister after having the cheek to be shockingly rude to Armand when everyone else accepts him is doing it too brown my lad!".

"Here I am trying to preserve the tone of the conversation and you use phrases I'm not supposed to copy from you" said Peter severely "Froggie you are too bad!"

Rateau, not discouraged from growling took a step forward. St Just took a step back. Peter laid a hand on her dog's collar.

"That creature is dangerous!" said St Just.

"Only to people I don't like" said Peter. "But I shan't let him eat you; I like Marguerite too well; and too I like Jeanne Lange. She deserves better in my opinion; but that's her choice. I wish you will go away; Rateau doesn't like you at all."

-/-

Rose thought Rateau delightful – at a safe distance. She thought him immensely clever to run along with the phaeton; and her father too was rather relieved to know that the girls would have a large hound as extra protection to prevent any from molesting them. Peter decided not to tell him that as well as her muff pistol in her reticule she carried a pair of pistols in a pocket on the dash. She had not had occasion to use them; but a wise member of the League was safe rather than sorry.

She had taken the rather silly Cecily driving as well, for the child had no vice in her and was lonely for being wealthy rather than of good family; and fortunately she too was immune to the charms of Aubery Gyrth, declaring him 'rather old' and asking him innocently if he was squiring his daughter when he paid attention to her and Peter both. Gyrth had retired in high dudgeon and Peter had warmed to Cecily, even though the snub had been entirely unintentional.

-/-

It was to Cecily too and all the Frontenacs that Peter offered the trip to Vauxhall that she had persuaded Froggie to endorse, making up a party with his coach and her phaeton; Rose was to ride in comfort inside the large carriage with her parents and Cecily while Peter drove her brother and betrothed. This did not suit Froggie much, who insisted on driving his own phaeton in addition rather than be driven by his sister – however accomplished she may be – and suggested bringing Lucille to wait on Rose and to add to Peter's countenance when driving with Chauvelin; who mourned his caleche in the days when he was wealthy in France but was too pleased to be with Peter to deplore too much her choice of vehicle. They were to see the ascent of a hot air balloon; though Froggie had expressly forbidden Peter to take a trip in one.

They arrived as the bag was starting to stand up and fill full; and the visitors stared with a variety of emotions at the intrepid aviators. Peter watched with a mixture of envy and fascination; Chauvelin with pure interest; Froggie with a dawning feeling that it would be a jolly sporting way to get about, and most of their guests with awe and not a little trepidation.

"Grand way to get a parcel of people back across the channel if the wind was right" said Peter to Armand.

"Yes ma mie; but in that optimistic sentence are five very important words; 'if the wind is right'" he replied. "The wind rarely blows from the east; save when it carries snow. And I am given to believe that it is very cold high in the atmosphere – you notice that the aviators are dressed warmly and have heavy gloves – which would surely be exacerbated under such conditions."

"You are probably right" said Peter, then brightened. "But we might use a balloon to get covertly into France, in total silence at night, anticipating a rendezvous for leaving that was prearranged; and if it were folded up entirely, the basket might be broken up or burned, and nothing to show that anyone has arrived at all."

"I am sure Sir Percy has considered the means of conveyance and has covered every contingency" said Armand, hoping devoutly that he had not. The idea of a trip for the sake of interest was one thing; navigating it into France was yet another.

To gasps of the crowd the balloon rose to the end of its rope, rocking gently; then the anchor was pulled up and it was away! Several of the sporting young men with curricles dashed off to try to follow it; Peter sighed.

"Rose would find it most unamusing; and besides the coach is too large to chase it" she said. "Can't leave the guests."

"Demme, no!" said Froggie who had half considered it.

"Let us get out the bath chair and take a turn about the gardens" said Peter "Once we have watched the balloon recede into the distance; I take it we are to stay long enough for the fireworks this evening?"

"Yes; I brought a hamper" said Froggie. "One may purchase food here, but I like to know where my food has come from."

Chauvelin and Peter exchanged grins; knowing that Froggie ate with indifference whatever came his way in the restaurants or cabarets of revolutionary France when in disguise.

-/-

It was a pleasant afternoon and evening; the fireworks were pretty and brought many a delighted cry from the audience; and Rose, though tired, had roses in her cheeks for the treat and Cecily almost gushed about it. Her parents had been only to happy to permit her to go anywhere under the patronage of a viscount's sister; and Cecily was very grateful for the slightly impatient friendship of Miss Holte, who was so kind to her. Peter liked Cecily's frank manners, even if she deplored her lack of wits; and found her more convivial for all her insipidity than many of the rather simpering maidens who were the other debutants; though with gentle handling, Cecily was becoming less insipid and had managed, after having been gently coached by Peter to tell one of her brothers, who had been to the prize fight and was telling his younger brother about it, eulogising Jackson and not realising that Cecily was listening, that in the nursery, hair pulling was considered a rather girlish thing to do.

This had effectively ended the subject and Cecily gloated in telling Peter all about it. Froggie overheard and laughed.

"Egad, Miss Cole, sporting comment; and perfectly justified, wot!" he said.

Cecily blushed.

Peter looked thoughtful. Froggie would be blue-devilled by too clever a wife; but naïve comments by Cecily had shown that she had been taught household management very efficiently by her rather forceful mama; and that once extracted from that mama, Cecily might well prove a stronger character and able to be a suitable wife to a member of the League. After all, someone was going to have to run Froggie when she herself married Armand. And Cecily was suitable to train up to the position.

Peter whistled Rateau to jump up and sit on her feet for the return drive, it being in the dark; she was afraid that the flickering of the lanthorns in the streets might confuse him with the shadows of the wheels and lead to him misjudging where the wheels were, and being killed.

Besides, as she pointed out to Armand, he was lovely and warm, like having a hot brick at one's feet. And her lover laughed and said that he had often dreamed of having one of the forms of Citizen Rateau lying at his feet but had never quite envisioned this being the way such dreams should be fulfilled.

And in the darkness they might sit closer together than was strictly proper; and drive in convivial silence.

…_.just a tribute to the Baluchistan Hound in 'Frederica' by Heyer_


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42 Brigands and a foundling**

Rateau proved his worth on the journey home; Peter, less used to London at night, had missed her way following Froggie and the coach; and found herself coming rather too close to the rookery of Soho; and a carriage off its proper course and obviously driven by a lady was too much temptation for a gang of footpads. One of them went to grab the bridle of one of the horses as Peter hesitated over what way she would go; and others clustered around.

"Hand over your dibs and there won't be nothing to weep over" said one roughly.

Silent as a wolf, Rateau was on him; and Peter plied her whip for a painful suggestion to the one at the horses' heads to stand aside; and it took all her strength to hold the horses, that wanted to run at the sound of its crack.

"Be off with you!" said Peter "I really can't be bothered to deal with your verminous larceny! Stand aside or I shoot."

She drew one of the pistols.

"Devil take it, the swell mort has a barking iron!" cried one; and fled. The others fell back, pursued by Rateau. Peter whistled for the dog; and when he had taken a flying leap into the carriage let the horses go, shoving the pistol back into its pocket.

"I fear we cannot offer you quite as much entertainment in London as being stopped by the Committee of Public Safety but I trust footpads will come a close second?" she asked gaily.

"I prefer to eschew either means of diversion" said Chauvelin. "Rateau, you're a good dog."

"He's the best of dogs" said Peter.

-/-

Peter drove out of the way of the footpads; but she was still at the edge of the Rookery. A small shadow moved suddenly; then cringed back. Peter reined in her pair.

"Brat, come here" she said.

The small figure came hesitantly forward.

"I weren't doin' nothin'" it said.

"Want to earn a shilling?" said Peter.

The child gave her to understand that this would be very welcome; the idiom was coarse but Peter picked up the general gist.

"I have missed my way; I want to get back to Bloomsbury. Can you direct me?" she asked.

"If I went wiv you I could tell yer the whole way" said the child "Cuh they are bang-up prancers."

"Won't your parents worry?" said Peter.

The child spat.

"Nah; there's only uncle Billie – wot ain't my uncle fer real, it's wot we calls him, us wot beg an' steal for un" he said.

"Steal from me and I'll feed you to my dog" said Peter, reaching down a hand for the child's filthy paw. He scrambled up and

Rateau sat up to inspect him.

"Cuh, lady, you're the swell mort wot put out Fishy Fred's daylights!" he said in awe "An' the dog you called Ratter; cuh he do look fine now!"

"Ah, yes; I recall you" said Peter "Do you like animals?"

"I likes prancers, lady" said the urchin.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"I ain't rightly sure; Smuts they calls me account o' havin' run away….." he cowered, terrified.

"If you think I'm going to give away someone who managed to escape from indenture to a cruel sweep you can think again" said Peter. "We'll keep Smuts as a surname for you; you are now called er, George; which is as good a name as any; and you will be working with Hobbes as his assistant, seeing to my horses. Disobey him and I daresay he will beat you. He does not beat as hard as whoever has made these nasty welts" she added; for the child was half naked. Hobbes sighed almost inaudibly in the back.

"That was Uncle Billie; account o' how I di'n't swipe enough yes'd'y" the boy said. "can I be your tiger?"

"Not until you've learned enough about caring for horses for Hobbes to say you may" said Peter. "WHERE am I going, George? No shilling until I'm home."

"Cuh, a bord AND workin' wiv prancers? Reckon I died and went ter heaven!" said George.

Chauvelin was chuckling softly.

"Well what else am I supposed to do?" said Peter.

"Oh, nothing my dear; nothing. And how I contrast you with a French woman of your estate; who would screech at his dirt and reach for her vinaigrette, waving him back and hoping some male protector would beat the poor brat senseless" Chauvelin spoke in French.

"Cuh mister, are you a frog spy?" demanded George.

"No, cub, I am an émigré; one who has come to live in Britain as more convivial than France. And if your spirit is anything to go by, even one in your poverty stricken situation is better off than a child of similar poverty in France; for you do not fear to say what you think."

"Blimey!" George was much struck "Yer can't talk out in France? Like you don't tell someone like Uncle Billie what you think?" the epithets he attached to Uncle Billie were colourful, scatological and even Peter blenched.

"George! You don't use words to the Honourable Miss Holte like that!" barked Hobbes "If you do I shan't let you work with the horses!"

That threat cowed the child more than the threat of a beating.

"Fortunately" said Peter "I don't know what half of the words mean; I am glad we don't have Rose with us, or Cecily."

"My delicate ears being immaterial" said Chauvelin.

"If you understood that I expect you've heard worse in France" said Peter equably.

"Undoubtedly" said Chauvelin "The child however tries even my grasp of the vernacular."

-/-

With George's able, if colourful, directions they were soon home; and Froggie was about to set out in search of his sister and was much relieved to see her. He peered outraged at George through his quizzing glass.

"If you think I'm having him sleep in a box in the salon like your wretched cur you can think again" he said. "The brat isn't half dead; he can go in the stables."

"I intended to take him there My Lord" said Hobbes imperturbably.

"Excellent" approved Froggie. "Armand, did she have to? I mean, did you have to let her?"

"I fear so" said Chauvelin. "There is a question of having escaped from a sweep, and being exploited by a thief-master; what else do you expect of Peter?"

Froggie groaned.

"Nothing I suppose" he said hollowly. "Well at least you're safe m'dear; I was having all sorts of horrors."

"I missed my way" said Peter "But we adequately scared off the footpads; Rateau ate one of them a little bit and it seemed to drive the heart out of the others."

"That and a pistol in the hands of a lady" said Chauvelin dryly. "Though I confess when I saw where it lay I got out its pair on the principle that if we had to fire, one explosion and two dropping dead might have a demoralising effect."

"Oh what a nice idea!" said Peter in admiration. "I almost wish we had needed to fire just so I might have seen it."

"Well I am glad we did not, ma mie" said Chauvelin firmly. "I shall bid you good night and take myself to my own lodgings."

"Good night Armand; haven't we had a nice day?" said Peter. Chauvelin laughed.

"Ah my dear! And with all the alarums on the way home, you still say that with all sincerity!" he said. "Within with you; Froggie is half starved waiting up for his dinner I imagine."

"Stay and dine with us old man and tell us about the footpads in better detail" said Froggie.

He hesitated; then shrugged.

"Why not?" he said. "It deserves a full story; Peter will make a bumble-broth of telling it out of modesty. Besides you set an excellent table."


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43 A trip to Astley's Ampitheatre**

Cecily came calling next morning to ask shyly if Miss Holte would be offended or think it unsophisticated to go to Astley's Amphitheatre as her papa wanted to take all the children to something they would enjoy and suggested asking Miss Holte to say thank you for the treat to Vauxhall.

"I told him that such entertainments might not be to your taste" said Cecily anxiously.

"Lud, child, I should like it above all things!" said Peter "In fact I prefer the thought of Astley's to another wretched dance; I went when I was very small – about the age of your fourth brother I'd say – and I've been longing to go again ever since. When had your papa planned it? Because if I've an engagement, unless it's one I have to go to for courtesy I shall cry off."

"Oh papa said that if you weren't too top lofty to go – I mean….." she turned scarlet. Peter laughed and patted her hand.

"I think I like your papa already" she said "He speaks as he means! No, I'm not too top lofty; my dear Cecily, don't you dare be an affected missish little piece trying to play the hypocrite; your father is a mill owner. I am sure that he is a shrewd and clever man; and in my mind that is more important than any birth! I have strong revolutionary leanings you know, though I deplore the lengths to which the French have gone; though their aristos really almost did ask for it. They replaced one set of despotic monsters for another. Indeed, my betrothed – and it's a secret betrothal for the nonce – though born an aristo joined the revolution because of his disgust with the estate to which he was born. He has become equally disillusioned over the mismanagement of the various revolutionary leaders; but he, like me, will respect a man who has been successful by the sweat of his brow and shrewd management."

"Oh Miss Holte! You are so good!" Cecily hugged her "So many people give me the cut direct because of my father; and he refuses to speak in any other way than what he is used to and says he doesn't see why he should!"

"Indeed; and I don't she why he should" said Peter "And Cecily, I wish you will call me Peter; for it's the pet name family and friends use."

"Oh Miss Holte! Peter I mean!" said Cecily, quite overcome.

-/-

Mr Cole was delighted when Cecily returned with a list of convenient dates to be embraced fiercely by his daughter and told that Miss Holte, who had asked her to call her Peter, preferred Astley's to a dance and thought he sounded a shrewd man. When he had untangled all that Miss Holte had said, he was mightily pleased and said that she was his idea of a proper aristocrat and extended the invitation to her revolutionary betrothed since he had never met a real revolutionary and was interested on his views.

-/-

Armand and Peter dined at the Cole's lodgings first; and Peter took to the blunt, bluff northerner, who quieted his managing wife with an ''a' done do, woman' when she tried to stop him saying anything embarrassing.

Armand might have found that in the man to disgust him before he had associated with so wide a variety of people and found that honesty and honour outweighed anything else; Peter was just fascinated by his mills and asked endless questions, proving such an interest and knowledge about steam power – to which Mr Cole had considered converting his water-powered mill, had not Cartwright's power loom shown so many problems – that he later said to his wife that if Cecily did get herself leg-shackled to the amiable but by all accounts pea-witted viscount that she could not stop talking about, at least his sister knew what was what. Any female who understood that a beam engine might be used to improve efficiency by lifting water to use as a motive force and accepted that the steam powered engines were not sufficiently efficient to install was an excellent friend for their Cecily! He did not add that it was more understanding than Cecily managed, who had grown up with it.

"What concerns me" said Armand "Is the working conditions in the mills; the condition of the lungs of the weavers I believe can be very poor due to the cotton dust in the air, and I am told that the orphans indentured are often treated very badly."

"Aye; that can be so" said Mr Cole "But I say the men who treat their workers badly are penny wise but guinea foolish! I don't say that there aren't conditions of the lung; because there are; it's almost inevitable. But on the hottest dryest days I have the girls issued with kerchiefs to tie over their faces; I don't make them wear them, but if they don't then that's their look out I say. As to the scavengers, the children, I don't hold with employing children too young; not with my own brood! Mind, all my children have done their turn in the mill; you can't hope to take brass from what you don't understand I say! And I started that way myself; so I know what a hardship it is, and though I take such orphans as they send me, I hold that a child should not work more hours a day than their age in years, no sir! And the rest of their day is taken up learning to read and write and figure; because a literate worker is an asset, sir, an asset!"

"Do you fear, when you move to more mechanisation, having attacks on the mill by those who fear that jobs will be threatened?" asked Peter "I've heard that was why the first steam-powered mill failed, because it was burned down by arsonists."

"Aye; and they are fools" growled Cole "Wi' good steam power, the conditions will be easier, aye, and though it takes less men to work, that means instead that more work can be done wi' t' same number o' workers, stands to reason!"

"But then, Mr Cole, you have already said that you are NOT penny wise and guinea foolish" said Chauvelin "I suspect many, content with what they have, will wish to reduce their number of workers for the same amount of cloth."

"Aye, well, I don't say you're wrong at that" admitted Cole "I see it as a chance to expand; aye, and one reason to give Cecily a season is to hope to find backers to expand; sleeping partners."

"Dependant on visiting your mill and asking a lot more questions not necessarily suited to the nuncheon table I should be interested in investing" said Peter. "I have money in my own right; and I am of the mind that you should make money work for you. Especially as I am desirous of being involved in philanthropic projects like setting up an orphan asylum which will give basic education and either arrange apprenticeships at fourteen or teach within the orphanage; I have a particular interest in rescuing young females from an unfortunate profession and giving them other skills; sewing perhaps, which would be a potential expansion on a cotton mill"

"What unfortunate profession is that?" asked Cecily innocently "Surely they do not let girls go down the mines?"

Mr Cole choked.

"You're too young Cecily" said Peter firmly "As a matter of fact girls and women do work down the mines; and it's a disgrace; as is the employing of little boys and girls as young as little Penelope here" she smiled at the mite of five or six summers who was paying serious attention to her meal and none to the conversation of her elders "To sit all day, in the dark, just to open gates for the boys Charles' age to pull the trucks through. It's no wonder they grow up stunted and crippled! I see steam power as a boon that will one day, I hope, replace child labour in such appalling conditions; and I fully intend to apprentice such of my orphans as are interested and capable to engineers to learn how to run and build them!"

"And being the Miss Holte we know and revere, she'd talk any engineer into accepting a girl who could do the calculations too" said Armand. "Certainly she is living proof that the mind of a woman is in no wise inferior to a man's; I studied some engineering at the Sorbonne in Paris – it is the French equivalent to your English Oxford – and have been passing on my knowledge to Miss Holte"

"Well now" said Mr Cole "When you have your orphanage we might talk about an exchange of work; I provide guaranteed work for your older ones who cannot get more cerebral work, and you take back those orphans I deem to young that have been indentured by some parish or other, to give them education to fit them better for work."

"The key to strong economy and an end to poverty is indeed universal education" said Peter.

"Aye; that it is" said Cole "I worked hard to get an education of sorts; my half day off on Sunday I spent poring over books at the vicarage. My workers have all day Sunday off and classes in literacy in the afternoons. And it has proved itself though some other millers jeer; that a mill worker read the label on a bale of cotton and laborious though that reading was, could shout for a foreman that it was the wrong quality – I shan't bore you with the details for now – so we avoided a costly mistake. And for earning a bonus over having the sense to check, that girl is working harder than ever to learn to read more fluently, and it has inspired others who were less enthusiastic. Aye, and a clever lass like that, she'll be a foreman yet" he added.

"I LIKE your business practices" said Peter.

"What is your policy on workers – children or adults – injured by the machines?" asked Chauvelin.

"I try to find them employment suited to their injury" said Cole "Sometimes it may be makework. You can't abandon folk that have been injured to your own enrichment, can you?"

"Mr Cole, you are more a gentleman than many with a title" said Peter "You have every instinct a gentleman ought to have. Froggie – my brother – makes sure that every one of our dependants is cared for, with work for their pride if he can do so. I look forward to a greater association with you."

-/-

The trip to Astley's Amphitheatre was enjoyed by all, young and old; Mr Cole marvelling at the feats performed by the riders and acrobats just as much as the children. He had six children; Frederick, Freddy, was the oldest at nineteen; then came Cecily who was a few months younger than Peter; then Adam, at sixteen, studious William who was fourteen and fascinated by steam power; Charles, eleven; and then the big gap to Penelope who was just turned six. Penelope was inclined to stick her thumb in her mouth and cower back at the clowns; the boys laughed at their antics and Cecily found them a little nerve-wracking too. She was much pleased when Peter told her that she did not care much for clowns either being a little too basic in their humour. The clown dressed as Harlequin however Peter did approve; his agility on the high wire was considerable and she applauded his efforts until her hands were tingling.

"The circle of the circus stage helps the riders to stay on" Armand explained "It is an application of centripetal force; which most people call centrifugal force, which is related but not the same."

"Please sir, will you explain it?" asked William, worshipfully.

"Consider if you will a ball tied to a string and whirled around your head" said Armand "Centripetal force may be expressed as the string by which you hold it; pulling it ever towards the centre of its rotation. Centrifugal force is the force of the ball's own momentum which wishes to get away. Because the two are in balance the ball continues to rotate. If you let go, removing the centripetal force, the ball flies outward with some force, under the influence of the centrifugal force. That's a trifle simplified but essentially how it works. It takes a lot of application to understand the calculations; do you attend a good school?"

"Aye he does" said Cole "And he wants university; and I hope he won't have too much trouble for his background."

"I'll talk to Froggie – er, Viscount Frogham" said Armand "A boy who is bright and talented should be encouraged. I'll see if he can't use influence. It's deplorable that such should be the state of affairs but we have faired no better in France in trying to remove a class system."

"You are both very kind" murmured Mrs Cole "Cecily is quite devoted to Miss Holte for her many kindnesses!"

"Cecily's a sweet girl, Mrs Cole" said Peter "And if they both like the idea I am determined that she should wed my brother; because when I am myself married he will need an efficient keeper."

"Keeper?" said Mrs Cole suspiciously.

"Naturally; he's a man. None of them should be let out without female relatives" said Peter. Mrs Cole gave a sudden laugh.

"Well we speak the same language in a manner of speaking" she said "Cole is a good man; and shrewd enough where business is concerned I dare say; but he'd let any tradesmen cheat him for the want of a little suspicion."

"Oh Froggie's just the same" said Peter cheerfully, happily destroying the viscount's reputation "Too trusting by half; and of course too flush in the pocket to count the silver. Which technically so am I, or will be when I come into my inheritance; but I was taught accounting by our very shrewd housekeeper who taught me the practical things my poor governess had not a clue about. Miss Primm is acting as my duenna, you know; because I have to have one and she needs someone to take care of her. Sometimes I envy Cecily for having two parents; though Froggie did not do so bad a job of bringing me up after papa died. Coming to Astley's was the last thing we did with papa in Town you know" she added softly. "And now I come to think of it, though he did not know the technical words he used the apple on a string analogy to explain how the riders do some of their amazing tricks more easily! Froggie and I spent weeks trying to ride standing up in circles round the meadow; neither of us ever succeeded for more than a few seconds at a time, though" she added. "Now I have seen it again at a more discerning age I can say safely that we probably were not actually going fast enough to take advantage of centripetal force; we thought to make our endeavours safer by keeping our horses to a walk."

"You did not get thrashed for that as for the tightrope walking then, ma mie?" asked Armand.

"No; just told to stop boring the horses and making them giddy" said Peter. "The tits soon let us know what they thought; a couple of nips to pass on their displeasure at such foolish antics and we gave up. And it wasn't more than half a year later that idiot Wenham crammed papa while he was taking an oxer and he fell and broke his neck."

"The Honourable Mr Wenham?" asked Mrs Cole

"No; his father" said Peter "The whole family have teeth instead of brains; look like rabbits, ride like rabbits and think like rabbits only not as clever."

"Dear me, Cecily, in that case I am most glad you refused Mr Wenham's offer of marriage" said Mrs Cole.

"Lud yes!" said Peter "Froggie may not be the sharpest stick in the bundle, but at least he's not next thing to a drooling imbecile! I stood up with Mr Wenham at Almack's and I assure you his conversation, such as it is, is virtually incomprehensible consisting largely of nervous titters and repetitions of the word 'wot' and more half-sentences than an old maid engaged as a governess to a large and badly behaved brood of spoilt brats. Touched in the upper works for certain; Froggie at least is fly enough when it comes to what he understands; which is managing land, sheep and horses. And he can string together a coherent sentence consisting of more than four words. You'll be better off with Froggie, Cecily."

"Oh but Miss Holte – Peter I mean – he hasn't asked me" said Cecily.

"Don't worry; I'll bring him up to scratch" said Peter.

"I thought, ma mie, you disapproved of arranged marriages?" asked Armand.

"I do; unless I'm doing the arranging" said Peter "In any case, 'twill be no such thing. Froggie merely needs to be shown the advantages of an excellent girl like Cecily to hold the reins when we are wed."

"Almost one wonders if one should be sorry for Froggie" murmured Armand.

"Nonsense; it is entirely for his own comfort" said Peter. "He'll consider a girl able to organise him less noisily than I to be an absolute paragon and will worship her for not being as forceful as me; a light hand on the reins will answer admirably."

"Well he's your brother" said Armand "And you know him best; though I can see he might like a rest from your tart tongue for he's not sarcastic and able to retort as I am."

"Exactly!" said Peter.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44 A pleasant Soiree**

Peter made sure to invite the older Coles for a soiree, and included William in the invitation since he was guaranteed to be somebody with interesting conversation – which comment, in young William's mind promoted Miss Holte to Goddess – and such of the eclectic friends and acquaintances she had made in town as would enjoy conversation and not despise the Coles. Those members of the League, for rescuing those they would not themselves have described as Aristos, had learned to be more egalitarian than many of their fellows; and certainly the idea that abolishing poverty was the best way to prevent revolution rather than crushing the poor by ever tighter abuses was one they were happy to debate. Those of less serious turn of mind had music from a harpsichordist and viola quartet and a fulsome table when they went in to eat as well as a buffet with cold collations and rout cakes to keep them going until supper. The party split into those debating serious issues, to which Froggie paid some attention before declaring that his sister might hold the family end up; and the more frivolous youngsters, which included Cecily and her oldest brothers Freddy and Adam, who might play hilarious games of fox and geese, spillikins and other such divertissements which Adam only declared that he was too old for until Froggie brightened and declared that he had not played a decent parlour game for so long that he was vastly obliged to his sister for thinking of it. Much fun was had; and Jimmy Holte, Viscount Frogham, was soon dishevelled when they devolved to turn the trencher. Cecily had said that she would not play such a game had not her mama been there to oversee it; and Froggie earned himself approval from that stern lady by agreeing and saying that he should not like Peter to play it either without protection.

"Why not, sir?" asked Adam "It's only a game of forfeits after all."

"Yes lad; and you're a nice lad who would not make a forfeit for a lady as would embarrass her" said Froggie "But there are some young men who are not so nice in their manners as you. Your mama is a wise woman to keep an eye on us that we don't go calling for a kiss as a forfeit that may be suitable when played with children of the nursery; but is not quite nice for a young lady"

"Oh, loose fish you mean!" said Adam.

"Here, I say, young Adam, you didn't go picking up that expression from m'sister did you?" said Froggie in lively alarm "I know I should be more careful what I say in front of her…. Mind I did tell her she wasn't to repeat it" he added "NOT a nice term to use in front of ladies."

Freddy burned red.

"I'm afraid it's my fault my brother knows the expression, sir; I heard Sir Andrew Ffoulkes use it of a fellow called Gyrth; and I told him" he said.

"Well no harm done; your sister will either box your ears or forgive you" said Froggie. "And Sir Andrew was quite accurate in his summation of that fellow; dangling after m'sister and making Miss Cole the object of some of his dubious gallantry too I hear; and Miss Cole, if the fellow ever troubles you, I'll plant him a facer."

"So will I" said Freddy "I don't like what I've heard of him."

"Well, the league of brothers for their sisters ought to defeat the creature" said Froggie. He waited until Mrs Cole's attention was elsewhere and murmured "I'll take you to Jackson's new boxing school if you like, Freddie; I'd rather learn from Mendoza, but he still has to mend. Might as well learn to do it properly."

"THANK you, Lord Frogham!" said Freddie in amazed pleasure.

Froggie grinned at him. He knew exactly what Peter was up to; and Cecily was a nice little thing. Her family weren't ton at all of course; but then, nor was Marguerite Blakeney; and she graced the society of England well enough. Changing times; one had to accept that times were changing. And Cole was a sound fellow however common he might be. And a possible ally for the League too. Cotton was the coming thing; taking an interest in it might not come amiss, even if he did not end up in the parson's mousetrap with Cecily; and she was certainly one of the nicest girls he had ever spoken to, nice natural manners and no giggling. Froggie loathed girls who giggled. And unlike the sort of friend one might have expected Peter to make she was no blasted blue stocking either!

-/-

It was perhaps unfortunate that those gatherings to which Cecily Cole might be likely to be invited, and at which the Viscount Frogham and the Honourable Miss Petronilla Holte would be bright stars to fix in the pinnacle of the social firmament of achievement of any hostess, were also those at which those at the edge of society, even the demi-mondaine, might be likely to attend. This included the ubiquitous Gyrth; and numerous other slightly unsavoury characters. Once it became apparent that Froggie and Peter were taking an interest in Miss Cole she received invitations from members of the League as well – which gratified her mother no end and left her father shaking his head and saying that he hoped his little lass would not let her head become swelled all for the kindness of Viscount Frogham's friends – but Cecily would not drop the few other friends she had made on the fringes of society, and Peter agreed that on no account should she do such a shabby thing. Fortunately Mrs Cole put her foot down over a masque to take place in Vauxhall Gardens; and when Cecily was a little tearfully resentful in telling Peter of her mother's attitude, Peter said,

"Oh no, Cecy, dear, that's NOT at all the sort of thing you would enjoy; and I fancy your friends Alice and Charlotte will find it less amusing than they think; I cannot think their mother was considering them when she permitted them to make up such a party. There are notorious rakes who attend such masques; even I know that. And they are of the kind that make the unspeakable Gyrth look like a model of rectitude; and you know how HE frightens you with his attentions. To be honest" she added candidly "He makes me a little nervous; I've taken to carrying my muff pistol all the time in my reticule in case of finding myself alone with him; and the sort of men who go to most public masques are those who hope to find women who are ready to take a carte blanche. I should no care to attend such you know, not at all, even with Armand or Froggie to protect me!"

"Oh" said Cecily, much reconciled to her mother's decision; that worthy matron was later to cast up her eyes and count silently to ten on hearing the account of how Miss Holte did not consider Masques quite the thing. "Would you really shoot him?" she asked.

"If he tried to do anything I should prefer he did not" said Peter. "Lud, Cecily, you are such a little innocent!" she added as Cecily's eyes asked questions. "It's your mama's business to warn you about the potential perfidies of those who are not gentlemen however, not mine; as it is to tell you what goes on in the bedroom when you are to be wed."

"Who told you?" asked Cecily.

"I watched what the horses do and made some educated guesses" said Peter. "But you must feel uncomfortable if a man you are not easy with even stands too close to you; you would not want Gyrth to lay his hands on you, would you? And if he touches me then I shall shoot him."

"You are so brave, Peter" said Cecily in worshipful awe.

"Not brave enough to put up with the slimy caresses of that worm" said Peter. "And I should not need to. I don't know why he continues to hang around me – though not when Rateau is close by, I note – when I've made it plain that I find his attentions most unwelcome."

"Perhaps he hopes to kidnap you and take you by force to Gretna" said Cecily. Peter laughed.

"In this day and age? Lud, but he'd discover a thing or two if he tried!" she said gaily. "What a depressing topic; I swear if I think any more of that fellow I shall quite fall into the megrims. Come over to ours for the evening instead of the trip to Vauxhall; it was an evening I planned to hold free of engagement and just be with the family; come over and bring such of your brothers as wish to come and we shall play quadrille and speculation and lottery tickets; I am certain we have a basket of fish somewhere to count our winnings and losses; and if not, you and I shall cut some out of the newspaper just for the evening or raid the button box and use buttons."

Peter added lottery tickets to the list of games since it required no skill and she was not sure how Cecily would cope with making bids with more complex card games; and it would never do to suggest anything as cerebral as whist, which she liked to play with Armand if there were others of like mind at such functions as offered quiet gaming rooms; which was most of them. Indeed, Armand was so good at whist that he was making a quiet living by playing, which pleased him greatly for having a means to make his own way.

Cecily beamed and embraced her idol; how KIND Peter Holte was to invite her to a quiet family evening; and how nice and ordinary she was to even think of cutting fish out of newspapers as counters or use buttons just as they did at home! It may be said that Peter's turn for improvisation was more to do with having a sadly erratic father and equally insouciant brother who were rarely prepared for anything until Peter took over the running of her brother and his household.

As it happened, Cecily was to be much taken by the mother-of-pearl fish that was the Holte family set; and Froggie professed that he had enjoyed himself as well playing family games as he might have done at his club playing vingt-et-un or other more esoteric games.

"I leave piquet and whist to Armand and Peter who are clever types to enjoy that sort of thing" he said.

"Oh then they are doubly kind to play simple games with us!" said Cecily.

"A pleasant change, Miss Cole" said Armand. He and Froggie would step round to Brook's after seeing the young Coles home; though he had at first only joined as a means to be a part of the League and its set, Armand was happy to be able to increase his earnings here too by his whist winnings; though the depth of play was sometimes a little nerve-wracking! Armand however did not gamble for the thrill; and was not stimulated purely by the size of the stake as some were. And as Froggie had promised to cover any undue loss and had loaned him plenty to get started with – which he had duly and scrupulously paid back – Armand had no fear in taking a high bet. And if he complained to Peter that he had been known to win more in one night than an honest tradesman earned in a year he accepted Peter's laconic comment that pauperising the rich idiots was more salutary than merely beheading them.

-/-

Froggie was rather impressed by Armand's ability to make a competence out of gambling; he gambled for the thrill as did most young bloods, though usually on sporting events more than on games of chance, accepting gambling as a part of the game for those card games he played and scorning to bet on dice. True he had bet on some rather unusual things, as had many members of Brook's; and inscribed in the betting book was the wager of a monkey by the Viscount that a rather down-at-heel but respectable parson in the street under the windows of those gentlemen watching, who obviously had an itch in an embarrassing place would succeed in scratching it, with the wager against it by Sir Philip Glynde; and a number of side bets that if the unfortunate parson did succeed in scratching his rear he would do it by rubbing against something like a horse, back into a doorway, or do it boldly and hope not to be observed. It is recorded that the Viscount had his five hundred pounds from Sir Philip and that George Stowmaries took a pony each from John Hastings, also of the League, and a Mr Horrocks over the nature of his relief from his itch.

Armand Chauvelin might deplore such frivolities; but as he also knew that Froggie had gone out to the parson and given him the entire of his winnings and his own stake and asked him to put it to a good cause it was hard to censure his prospective brother-in-law. He might despise priests who represented the rapacity of the church as he knew it, and who preached obedience to the status quo; but he had learned in England that poor country parsons usually did much for the poor, often interceding on their behalf; and there was even a sect of priests called Wesleyans who were virtually revolutionary. What Froggie gave to this man was certain to reach the poor in its entirety; and not be skimmed at various levels by the church for her own enrichment.

And life was actually rather good; and to complain seemed ungracious and ungrateful.


	45. Chapter 45

_incidence of coarse language at end of chapter_

**Chapter 45 Chauvelin and Froggie visit Brooks**** with attendants**

Armand and Froggie strolled to Brooks, accompanied by small George and Citizen Rateau. The boy had insisted that the Viscount needed 'somfink like a link boy or a page boy' to accompany him and a hound as protection; the boy had made something of an ally of Rateau, and now knew that the name came from a large and ungainly fellow Mr Armand and Miss Peter had known in France. Froggy was inclined to agree to give Rateau an outing since he had only had a brief walk that morning with Peter, when she rode out to Hyde Park to exercise her riding horse. George was curious about the toff's clubs and looked forward to nosing about in their nether regions with the other servants. Hobbes had threatened him with immediate dismissal if he ever stole from milord or any of milord's friends and George was learning to break himself of being light fingered in light of that terrible threat; moreover he had needed to learn to steal, not having been brought up to be dishonest before fleeing from the bullying chimney sweep. He felt very grand in clean, new clothes and even stockings and shoes, walking behind the two swells he served with almost as much devotion as he served Miss Peter; besides, Mr Armand was going to marry Miss Peter and Mr Jimmy, Milord that was, was her brother. No footpads would lay hands on his swells while he and Rateau were there to see them off! He was disappointed that Mr Jimmy had refused to let him have a barker; but he had said that he should learn how to shoot properly so when he was Miss Peter's tiger he might help defend her. George was happy to learn whatever cramp-words the swell coves wanted him to, and to forget the more colourful portions of his language, and even to bath every week and wash every day in order to live in clover like this! And Mr Hobbes was not too demanding a master; it was hard work, but he got to be around horses, and Mr Hobbes never did any worse than to clip his ear for inattention. Why he had not been beaten once! And though he was tired by this late at night – and if he slept in he might get Mr Hobbes' belt across his rear – he was curious enough to invent a good reason to follow.

And it amused Froggie to accept the affectation. Armand was more inclined to think that taking the dog was one thing, the boy something else; but as Froggie pointed out, someone needed to be in charge of Rateau while they played.

-/-

George skipped happily down to the servants' quarters with Rateau; which additions caused a few raised eyebrows.

"My valet and his assistant" said Froggie cheerfully.

"Which is which old man?" asked Lord Worth

"Need you ask? The dog is my valet; he's training the boy to run at heel and fetch which covers most of the duties of a valet" said Froggie. This raised much laughter and no more was said of his strange entourage. Wealthy Viscounts were permitted their eccentricities after all.

The eccentric viscount had to go looking for his dog and link boy in the end before they left – Armand up by some three thousand pounds over the evening's play – and found both dog and boy asleep in the club's kitchens, and the overnight cook most put out to have his domain invaded by the members. Froggy laughed, tipped him generously, and picked up George. Rateau yawned, got up and wagged his tail.

"And if you think I am going to carry you, you hairy article, you may think again" said Armand sternly. Rateau licked his hand, gave a little 'wuff!' and trotted towards the door.

George revived in the cold night air and begged to be put down because 'it weren't right'.

"Proud brat; very well, but let me know if you become too fatigued" said Froggy. "At least you ain't such a disreputable object as you were when m'sister first brought you home. You ain't going to stain my coat now."

-/-

Their path was dogged by the inevitable prostitutes who lined almost every street that was likely to be frequented ; Froggie always liked to walk home from his club to clear his lungs and head, though he detoured around Soho on the way back to Bloomsbury from St James' Street. As they went on their way, Armand felt an insistent pull on his arm by George.

"What is it, boy?" he asked.

"That girl there; that's Liza" said George "She were kind to me when Uncle Billie beat me; won't Miss Peter need a nice maid?"

The over-rouged little prostitute was scarcely a 'nice maid'; but she was also ridiculously young and looked like the very paradigm of the starving masses that had been those for whom the revolution had been started in the first place; like those Peter had wanted to help in Paris. His Pierrette would not turn her away; and her abigail Lucille at least knew the realities of life.

"She has no family?" he asked.

"Naw; not since Uncle Billie sold her little sister to a degenerate and the kid bled to deff" said George. Armand's breath hissed in.

"Egad!" said Froggie "That's bad. Yes indeed. I had no idea…." He looked upset. Armand touched him on the arm.

"That's why Peter wants to help them; what she saw in Paris" he said quietly.

Froggie nodded; he was fighting unmanly tears.

"Shall I get 'er ter come over?" asked George.

"Yes; run over and tell her that you have a good situation and…. George, you know we won't hurt her, don't you?"

"'Course I do, Mr Arman'; you ain't no degenerates" said George.

"Then she might trust more willingly if you tell her you lied to us and said she is your sister; because if she looked out for you, that's almost like being a sister. And then she might be less afraid. I expect she knows of men who do bad things and if she is living in, she might be afraid of either that, or of being made an indentured servant" said Armand.

George considered that; then sniffed.

"So that's a good lie, like not sayin' what I really fink of Mrs 'Obbes' new 'at?"

"Precisely" said Armand. The excellent Hobbes had presumably been enlarging George's understanding of honesty in speech as well as his cleanliness of body.

Liza came over warily when George fetched her.

"Smuts says you wants me ter be a grand lady's maid not ter fuck you" she said. "And not ter have ter fuck people no more."

"How old are you child?" asked Armand.

She sniffed.

"Do it matter?"

"No; take it that I am nosy" said Armand.

"Nearly firteen; I fink" said Liza.

"Then any man who would lay with you is a stinking degenerate; and I swear that if any try to do so, either I or the Viscount Frogham here, or your new mistress, his sister, will kill them" said Armand levelly.

"By jove, yes!" said Froggie. "Armand, old man, we need to stop Peter going to kill this er, Uncle Billie."

"Sacre Tonnere! You are correct!" Armand was much struck. "If you ask me though, something needs to be done about him."

"Well we'll do it as a League matter" said Froggie. "That ought to put the traces on her and stop her in mid gallop. Here, Liza; you walk along with George and you can sleep in the stable with him overnight and Mrs Hobbes will see to getting you some decent clothes tomorrow."

"It's real nice in the stable; warm and comfortable" said George. "Cuh they do have some bang-up prancers, his nibs and Miss Peter."

"Ow come a miss is called Peter?" Liza demanded.

"Talk sense do!" said George "'Ow would you like ter be saddled wiv a cramp-name like Petronilla jus' ter get yer hands on the dibs of some old gager-mort wivout pickin' somefink what'll shout?"

"I s'pose so" conceded Liza.


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**** Unsanctioned Planning**

Peter had retired to bed and so received word of Liza's arrival when George erupted into her bedroom and dragged the girl in – freshly bathed by Mrs Hobbes and attired in a cut down shift of that worthy as at least being more decent that her previous rags. Liza shone with a mixture of soap and resentment; but she had slept softer and deeper in the hay and was inclined to mostly believe George when he told her it was well worth the peculiar feeling until you got used to it. George made his odd version of a bow that he was trying to copy from the elegant Froggie and Liza bobbed a curtsey.

"A friend of yours, George?" asked Peter.

"I'm 'is sister" said Liza firmly. George made a grimace and a wink at Peter who hoped she had read him correctly to play along with this. Liza went on, "Smuts says you c'n use a maid; I dunno what to do but you c'n learn me."

"Why, how excellent" said Peter "My maid Lucille could do with an assistant; I fear I am a terrible trouble with the Season and all. Only she is a French girl – rescued from the Terror, you know, by the Scarlet Pimpernel – and you must be careful, please, not to teach her any curse words; you see she might not know any better than to use them when she must not. George will help you get in the habit of not using them, won't you George?"

"Aye" said George. "D'you KNOW the Scarlet Pimpernel, Miss Peter?"

Peter laughed.

"Oh many people know him without knowing that they know him" she said. "Come, Liza; I shall introduce you to Lucille and she shall see what cloth and costumes we might have to clothe you respectably. Mrs Hobbes' shift may do as a rough sort of round gown but we need something a bit more for you until she has been out to purchase garments for you."

Liza let herself be led away and handed into the care of Lucille, who called her 'La pauvre petite' and took her firmly in hand.

-/-

Peter descended to partake breakfast to find that Armand had arrived ready to warn her about Liza. He laughed ruefully when Peter told him that George had already firmly invaded her bedroom with the child.

As expected, Peter was furious to hear about Liza's little sister; but when it was put to her that this was League business she made herself calm down and listen to the men. And Armand had to concede that though Froggie was not usually a man for ideas, the concept of keeping Peter from rushing off with murder on her mind by making it a matter for the League to which Peter was scrupulously obedient was relatively brilliant! He had no compunction over contriving the death of any enemy of the people; and this thiefmaster Billie was undoubtedly that in the degradation to which he placed the children he used; Armand had few problems with the theft of small trifles by the starving from those to whom the cost of saving a soul from starvation was but small change.

"Why is there such degradation and misery when most are content, and not unduly oppressed?" he asked.

"Because people flock to the cities to the new prosperity of industry in the most part since there is less to do on farms since more sheep are run" said Froggie. "In the north there's work in the mills; in London there is a dream of the city with streets paved with gold, as it was for Dick Whittington you know; save that for him he did work his way up to be thrice Lord Mayor. The dream is false; but you can't tell people that and still they come. The Rookeries are places no honest folk will go, full of the hopeless; and full too of those who feel the need to retaliate first such that any stranger is like to be set upon, especially anyone who looks as though he is in the least to be connected with any authorities. It is not widespread as it is in France; but imagine if you will a couple of confined areas as like unto Paris as may be imagined in the filth and degradation."

"I did not know" said Peter "What can we do?"

"We can do little until there is a clearance of the old derelict buildings and work to do for those who live – nay, exist – within the warrens" said Froggie.

"They are fearful and hungry and criminal; but they do not look over their shoulders in the way the people of France do" said Armand softly "They have their pride."

"Pride! Yes, it's about all the poor er creatures do have" said Froggie "The children grow up feral. I take it the immediate plan is to dress down and penetrate within the streets of that place and find some way to hie this Billie before the beak; since the League does not kill."

"There is only one way I can see to make that work" said Peter. "And it will mean poor little George going with us to point him out; so that we will know him again; and then luring him far enough to decide that a newcomer to the neighbourhood might become one of his trollops and then my betrothed and brother burst out of concealment and knock him down for laying hands on me. It will be our word against his; and it is a trap; but I think he deserves it."

"Zounds, yes!" said Froggie. He pulled the bell for a footman and sent for George, who appeared looking apprehensive.

"Ah, George; sit down" said Froggie affably "We were discussing how to put Uncle Billie permanently out of business."

"Cuh, you mean you're going to stick a chiv in him?" asked George in interest.

"Actually we were planning to entrap him into a situation where he is accused of assaulting my sister" said Froggie. "Because I prefer to stay within the law."

"Well it don't make no difference in the long run" shrugged George "He still get to go to bed in a box after the nubbing-cheat is done with him."

"George, pray enlighten a poor Frenchman on the meaning of that sentence" said Armand.

"Well, stand to reason; go to bed in a box – a coffin, see? After being hanged" said George,

"Ah; thank you. Always glad to enlarge my vocabulary" murmured Armand.

"You're welcome Mr Arman' I'm sure" said George.

"The catch is whether you'd come and point him out" said Peter.

"You'd not let un get me agin?" George actually clung to her.

"Never!" said Peter. "If we might catch a glimpse of him, then we move nearer the main street; and you let him see you, is he likely to chase after you?"

"I'll say!" said George.

"Good; it would help if we might find somewhere to lurk" said Froggie.

"You can hire some o' the rooms what's tumbledown for tuppence a night" said George. "But they won't hire them out to swells."

"We shan't be swells by the time we get there" said Armand. "Froggie, you need to get a room nearer so we don't get arrested; being a sans-cullotte anywhere in Paris is one thing, we'd get stared at in London and doubtless taken up by the constables."

"Not a problem" said Froggie "We can work out of the little house of Maurice and Josette Reversac; he works at Linclon's Inn you know as a lawyer and has a small house between there and Soho. The Chief heaved them out of France, though I'm not sure of the details."

Armand gave a whimsical smile.

"Out of my clutches because I was using them as a bait for the chief" he murmured. "How I had to harden my heart not to see my Fleurette in little Josette Gravier! But unless the chief enlightened her, to Josette I was still a friend when she left me and was spirited off by the Scarlet Pimpernel."

"Cuh!" George was duly impressed "So you DO know the Scarlet Pimpernel; was you working against him then, Mr Arman'? why? And why did you change your mind?"

"Why? Because I believed in the revolution; I believed that by cutting off the heads of every last aristocrat the masses would have a better life. The French aristos are not like the English; picture the most sneering, cruel aristo you have ever seen and assume most French aristos were like that. They had power of life and death over everyone lower than themselves; nobody in England is above the law. I wanted to change that. I fought the Scarlet Pimpernel because I saw him thwarting a work I perceived as good and noble. In the end I was wrong because it was futile, and one set of oppressors was replaced by others who wielded the guillotine with the relish a marquis might wield a whip over some unfortunate who had dared look at him the wrong way. I angered those in charge; and the Scarlet Pimpernel saved my life, having already rescued my daughter. He saved my life; by that token and by my sense of honour, my life belongs to him. And in following him I can still aid the ordinary people that I tried to do in my foolish belief that the revolution was the way. And I would that it might have worked" he added.

"Cuh, I could have told you that" said George "We don't have no aristocrats in the Rookery, see; but the biggest bullies and cruellest bastards get to the top and make people do what they want. Stand to reason; if you ain't got nobody what's supposed ter be in charge, them what's nastiest will be."

"The realities of politics from a small boy" said Peter "George, you've more brains in your head than most of the politicians in the world all added together. Not that it's hard" she added.

"When are we going?" asked George.

"That's not a half bad boy you've picked up there" said Froggie approvingly "Well, Maurice will be out, but I imagine Josette and her brood will be there; no time like the present. I was only going to wander down to the club this morning so nothing really on. There's a box of rags and stuff in the attic, Peter, m'dear; bring it to my dressing room, there's a good girl, and we'll pick out a bundle to take."

"And too I must put on a muslin gown that will not mark me out as wealthy; but too is not an obvious disguise" said Peter. "If I wear my county bonnet I shall look perhaps like a girl fresh up from the country, bemused and lost; like the poor little chicken in Hogarth's 'Harlot's progress'."

-/-

Josette was delighted to see her thin friend from France again; Sir Percy had never enlightened her as to his true identity; what urge had prompted him he might never have known himself; perhaps merely a desire not to add further disillusionment to her lot. She had trusted Monsieur Armand when he said he would have to order her arrest; and the so-called soldiers who had arrested her had led her to a safe house where before long she was reunited with her Maurice; and she smiled happily.

"Ah, despite what you said to test my resolve about how wicked was the Scarlet Pimpernel, I knew you were something to do with him" she said "How well you feigned anger when he was around! I am so glad to see you again, M. Armand!"

Armand smiled a rueful smile.

"I am glad to see you well" he said. "Yes; I am now openly working for the Scarlet Pimpernel."

It was too complex to try to explain to the simple girl all that had happened; but the warmth in her eyes was pleasant; yet something of a reproach to his conscience. Truly the friendship of Josette and perhaps her Maurice was a penance; but one he undertook willingly.

"We need to use your house, if you will permit, to change into disreputable objects" said Froggie.

"Why certainly; whatever you need" said Josette, stooping to pick up the child clinging to her skirts. She was visibly pregnant as well. "Would it suit your purpose better to use the small mews where we keep the pony? Maurice sometimes needs to go and visit a client so we have a pony and trap. The door there opens onto a quieter street."

"Perfection" said Froggie "And if we may come and go, perhaps you will ask your husband if we might have a key; so we do not have to trouble you?"

"Oh he will be glad to do anything he can for your noble League!" cried Josette. "But – how are you to get to France from here?"

"Oh we are engaged in rescuing innocents from a closer hell than Paris; from the rookery" said Froggie. Josette crossed herself.

"Yes M'sieur; everywhere in England is so jolly and contented save those awful places" she said.

"And since there is less trouble in France we turn our attentions to home territory" said Froggie. Sir Percy and sundry of the league had been to France more than once; Froggie and Peter were exempt for having been twice within the last year, and others took their turns. Had they known it, the chief had not asked Armand St Just either; since Sir Percy was not sure of the reaction his brother-in-law might have to the rescue of Jacobins; and preferred not to have to order St Just if he argued. It was not worth upsetting Marguerite over; the rest of the League would understand that. And more than one had asked not to work with St Just if there was any choice; though only Sir Andrew had voiced a lack of trust in his honour. Most merely shrugged and muttered things about reliability. And a tight-knit group HAD to have trust not merely in the honour of their fellows but their ability to be and do where and what they had been ordered to be and do. And Percy had laughed his quaint laugh that less professed an unwillingness to work with Chauvelin than with St Just. And so he let St Just be, planning his forthcoming nuptials.


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47 The Rookery**

Four precious villains emerged from the mews; two men and a pair of boys to all appearances; the boys barefoot urchins and George much impressed at what a grimy ragamuffin his mistress managed to look; and what a ruffian Mr Jimmy and how villainous was Mr Armand!

They moved without comment through the streets; though honest burghers and their wives clutched purses tighter and moved to avoid these dirty ragged gypsies of wretches; though all were too pale of skin – if one might tell under the grime! To be gypsies; but they had something of the manner, furtive yet swaggering.

To Froggie there was that about the dark, narrow and corrosively wicked alleys that commenced the rookery that reminded him of Paris; Armand too gave a cynical smile of recognition.

"One might almost expect to see the original Citizen Rateau" he murmured.

"I wish we could have brought our Rateau" said George. The dog had been left behind on grounds that he was too distinctive and that he would too be overly enthusiastic over going for anyone he took a dislike to; causing no end of trouble.

Their passage was questioned by a group of ruffians; and Froggie plied his fists and Armand a stick and Peter too used a short stick much in the way of a sword; and the ruffians, used to bullying, not to being hurt by hard-eyed and determined individuals retired in short order. George was much impressed; and any misgivings he might have harboured melted away. Even Miss Peter knew how to fight! Duly they came to what might almost be described as a square, around which the high buildings lowered, housing the poorest.

"That's where he can be found" said George "Step back into this alley; there's a place we might hire."

He knocked on a door; it was opened by a slatternly looking woman.

"Whaddya you want, Smuts?" she asked.

"Gorra client or two here, want to hire your place fer a few hours; put a chicken in a coop like" said George.

The woman regarded Froggie and Armand.

"Tuppence fer the room until dark; and tuppence fer my silence" she said "And if you want it fer the night too that'll be extra."

"Your friend drives a hard bargain, Smuts, me lad" Froggie's voice had roughened.

"There ain't no-one better at hearin' nuffin' and sayin' nuffin" said George. Froggie nodded.

"Awright; reckon it's worth it" he said. "A groat it is then" and he reached into a greasy pouch and fished out the small coin.

The woman nodded.

"I'll be outa here in a brace o' shakes" she said "Then it's all yours."

They loitered until she had left then went into the squalid place.

"George, we'll enrol you in the League yet" said Froggie. "A chicken in a coop; marvellous improvisation!"

"And one that could be taken further" said Armand "To explain what The Honourable Miss Holte is doing in a place like this; why she was kidnapped of course by some desperado; perhaps some rake loosely associated with the ton, and that fellow Billie but his tool."

"Lud, no wonder you were the reckoned the cleverest member of the Committee of Public Safety" said Froggie in admiration "Finding ways to denounce people with two parts truth and one part lie like that."

"Funnily enough I learned that from the Scarlet Pimpernel" said Armand. "Let us then scout covertly and see this fellow if we might. Pierrette, ma mie, I should prefer that you stay here."

"I shall change into my demure little gown while you are gone" said Peter. "All the better to be a chicken in the coop. Take care, George; I don't need to wish the same to these villains, they are old in the art of intrigue and survival."

She did so; and then when the men returned politely turned her back for them to resume their normal clothes, Froggie cursing that he would never get a used cravat back on properly.

"It will have got rumpled in the mill when you rescue me" said Peter placidly "Armand, of you goodness, will you do up my back buttons?"

He gasped; and where his fingers touched the skin at her neck it was like fire and Peter leaned towards him.

"I wish you two lovebirds would keep your minds on the business in hand" complained Froggie.

They exchanged a smile; and Froggie thought, as well they might have kissed!

"Truss me up" said Peter "George shall lead him in here and leave the door open; he might flee if he feared I was another's prey; but somehow I fancy he's too opportunistic."

Froggie and Armand glided out of the door and lurked further down the alley; and if there were any who were better at lurking in all England it was only other members of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel.

George went off – in some trepidation – whistling jauntily to give himself courage. And his three companions were proud of his courage.

-/-

It was not long before George came pelting back at breakneck speed; a cadaverous fellow in mismatched garb running after him, brandishing a stick. George hurtled into the house, past Peter; and perhaps by instinct and in some real fear went straight up the chimney.

His pursuer pounded in after him; and cadaverous as he was he was a strong looking fellow, pock-marked and marked with his evil disposition in every line on his face. He blinked.

"WELL now" he said "Where did you come from, pretty one?"

"Stay away from me!" said Peter.

"Hoity toity, wench; take that tone when you're working for me and you'll regret it" he said. "A prime piece of goods you are; a virgin too I shouldn't wonder. Plenty of brass in that."

He had drawn nearer and lifted her chin. Peter spat full in his face.

He struck her hard; and Peter was seeing a coruscating explosion of colour and fighting against blackness overwhelming her. Dimly she heard Froggie shouting,

"Here she is! And we have caught the cur red-handed!"

There were sounds of conflict – both men had heard the blow and saw how groggy she was – and Billie went down with as much pain as Mendoza had done. George had emerged from the chimney and was cheering.

Now it was Billie's turn to be trussed up; and Froggie said

"Tare an' 'ounds, how do we get him out of here?"

"Send George with your Pimpernel ring to Galveston" said Armand, who was leaving Froggie to finish the knots on Billie to go to untie Peter and cradle her tenderly to him.

"Lud, Bibi, that hurt!" gasped Peter "My head swims yet!"

"Ma Pierrette; ma petite bravette!" he stroked her hair gently.

"Lud, they'll be at it all day now" said Froggie "Here, George; can you find Brook's again? Put on your good clothes or they won't let you in; say you have a verbal message for Sir Thomas Galveston or failing him, George Stowmaries. Ask to see their ring and check it looks like this one; and ask them to bear a hand. You can tell them everything when you are outside."

"Yessir!" said George, scrambling into his good clothes. He took the ring, which had a folding cover with the device of the Frogham arms on it over the enamelled pimpernel; and ran off.

Peter was sensible quite some time before Billie.

"And when George gets back he will have to collect the other orphans that this fellow ran" she said "Froggie, do you own any other property in London?"

"A few houses" said Froggie "I let them for the season usually; one's on long term lease I think to one of our émigrés. Why?"

"Because we can't have a dozen or more orphans in the town house; there won't be room; it would intimidate most of them; and it would upset large numbers of your friends. Bend your mind to something we might do with them."

"You're supposed to be the clever one m'dear" said Froggie.

"Yes; but right now I'm a trifle addled"

"I could be unkind and say nobody will notice the difference" said Froggie. "I know; there's the old town house; it's no longer in a fashionable part of town. Papa built our house when he was a young man, and the old place has never really been occupied. My factor keeps it in repair and hires it out for functions for me; because it has a ball room of course, and it is worth the while of provincials driving over there to use it. I never got around to pulling it down; and I believe Great Aunt Petronilla had the use of it during her lifetime which is why Papa never pulled it down. She's only been dead four years so it should be in good repair."

"Excellent" approved Peter. "And the children shall help clean it up and have some say in what is done to improve it as an asylum. We need a matron."

Froggie laughed.

"Not Miss Primm; she'd enact no end of a Cheltenham tragedy over having to look after such rough children! Lud, m'dear, put Hobbes and Mrs Hobbes in charge until we've a permanent replacement; Soames is capable of acting as groom until we get Hobbes back. He's not clever but he knows how to care for the cattle."

"If I may suggest" said Armand "There are many widows who spend every penny they have to launch their daughter for a Season; a dubious investment in my opinion. But where such girls do not 'take' or where they make a marriage that is not so brilliant as their fond mamas might have wished these unfortunate women, strong enough willed to get their daughters to Town in the first place, yet in straightened circumstance might be prepared to consider our orphans. Or indeed some of the less er delicate in the sensibility of the émigrées. For what it is worth I offer the ideas."

"You are so very clever, Armand" said Peter.

"Lud, she's off again" said Froggie.

-/-

Reinforcements arrived in due course; including Sir Percy.

"Branching out, Peter?" he drawled.

"Something had to be done to stop this egregious user of children" said Peter "I have a twelve-year-old trollop at home whose

little sister died of blood loss when THIS sold her to a degenerate."

"Ah; I see" said Sir Percy, not unkindly. "Another time you want to enact such heroics, could one of you manage to have the wit to bring it to me first?"

"We didn't think it was likely to be worth troubling you in effect" said Armand "But he hit Peter and she is dizzy; else Froggie and I should have manhandled him out between us and called a constable. I do not think she should walk without aid."

"Indeed not" said Sir Percy. "So, we have been hunting your kidnapped sister together and were told by some urchin that he had seen a wealthy looking lady carried here; and we turned up in time to stop this vile creature from violating her. And what of the other children he has been running – thieving as well I suppose?"

"The old Frogham place" said Froggie. "We've a temporary matron and director; if you've any émigré in mind as could take it over Armand suggested that as a possibility or indigent widow."

"Leave that in my hands" said Sir Percy. "Armand, I will carry her; you and Froggie carry your prisoner and Galveston and Stowmaries shall run ahead to find a constable."

"There's a band of ruffians about" said Froggie "They may have recovered from meeting us by now."

"They had; but I doubt if they have yet recovered from meeting us!" said Sir Percy merrily.

-/-

The sight of the badly bruised Miss Holte and the depositions of her brother and sundry of his friends were enough to get Billie thrown in gaol awaiting trial; and Peter was borne tenderly home while Froggie saw his factor; and the League went into action like a well oiled reciprocating engine to check the house out and sort out emergency supplies and accommodation within it for the children; and Mrs Hobbes supervised a girl she borrowed from the kitchens in boiling water for both scrubbing floors and bathing orphans. Peter felt too light headed to take an interest and fell asleep, tearful that she could not be a part of it.

"Don't worry Miss Peter; I'll tell them you fought him so they could be free" whispered George, who had slipped in to see her against all orders. Peter smiled at him. It was not this that she was concerned about but being excluded perforce from her own project; but it was sweet of the lad.

And then she could stay awake no longer.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**** St Just's Plans**

The story of Peter's supposed abduction and rescue was the talk of the town; and many well-wishers called with flowers and fruit and messages of sympathy and support.

"I do feel an awful fraud" said Peter after Cecily had been one of the few to be admitted to the invalid and had wept over her.

"Well you were in some danger so you're due some fuss being made over you" said Froggie "And you were a pretty unsung heroine in France. You're due the sympathy for taking the sore head in any case on behalf of others; just accept it. And if I were you, I'd claim that the bump on the head has fortunately robbed you of much of your memory of the ordeal. It's a lovely rainbow of colours; make a deucedly pretty silk waistcoat."

"Fribble" said his sister.

-/-

Armand St Just showed what his sister considered a touching concern for Peter, asking her if she knew what had happened.

"I suppose Froggie isn't going to let her be alone now" he said "For fear for her safety."

Marguerite laughed.

"Oh your concern for Peter is kind, but misplaced, I assure you! Percy was irritated at first – you know how he likes to have total control of everything! – but Froggie and Chauvelin and Peter hatched it all between them because they did not want to trouble him when he has trips to France to plan. It was no such thing as an abduction in reality, but the story that is told in order to obtain the arrest of a man who HAS abducted innocents. Peter picked up this street boy – rather in the manner that she picked up that absurd dog of hers – and he had been owned like a slave by this man who was a thief-master. And made girls of a very young age walk the street too. Of course Percy might have divined a way to rescue the children without having to remove their master; but I can't say that I disapprove of getting such an one off the street. Though I have to say" she smiled ruefully "Even had Peter actually been abducted I cannot somehow see her wishing to be trammelled in any way!"

"I see" said St Just. "Well I see the circumstances; though I fail to see what a nicely brought up young lady like Petronilla Holte is doing troubling herself with filthy street brats; I suppose this is some start that man has dragged her into in some attempt to drag her into degradation."

"Armand, don't be silly" said Marguerite "As I understand it, it was Peter who has been agitating Chauvelin into helping her ambitions to effect social relief; it was more or less the reason he was ready to join the league, that all innocents are its goal to rescue from any situation, not merely aristocrats. Surely if I can put behind me the wrongs he has done me you can manage to do so? After all it is I who have been the one of us who has born the brunt of his despite for Percy; and after much talk with him I can understand more and forgive much; and be prepared to forget the rest. You have only ever been of use to him as a means of using me against Percy."

St Just opened his mouth to disclaim this; and shut it again. He could not tell Marguerite how he suffered over Jeanne's possible fate, how he did not trust Percy to act and had consequently walked straight into Chauvelin's hands to betray the best man in the world.

"I am sorry little mother" he said "But I cannot trust him; and I wish that Percy would not either."

"As you know, Percy drops a word and then permits people to put their honour together; or gives them the rope to hang themselves with by showing their true colours" said Marguerite. "Like Kulmstead. If Chauvelin betrays him Percy will have a contingency plan to deal with that. But I don't think he will. He gives his loyalty totally, I think; whether he fully approves of all that is done in the name of what he is loyal to or not. He has only changed sides because he has himself been betrayed; and he is open about what he does not like in the League. And yet he still obeys; remember that, Armand."

It was not a rebuke to his own disobedience; Marguerite never knew the extent of her brother's total disregard of her husband's strictures. But St Just flushed, stricken.

-/-

Had he not been such a shallow and selfish character, perhaps the rebukes of St Just's sister might have outweighed the hatred he felt for Chauvelin; an hatred that was at least partly driven by self-hatred if one were entirely honest! But he was determined to serve Chauvelin as he had himself been served; and so he sought out Aubery Gyrth who was raging that the heiress was now going to be guarded closely.

"No she won't" said St Just "Her brother is a casual sort of guardian; and is unlikely to think that lightening will strike twice in the same place. And Miss Holte is an independent type and would be irked by any extra protection. If you ask me you should move as fast as possible when she is back in society."

Gyrth looked hopeful.

"Are you certain? I'm completely cleaned out; so far into dun territory I can't see a way out. I need to marry her."

"She'll be back into society on Thursday; my wedding's in the morning. I know that's not much use to you because you need to have her to yourself ovenight; but all the guests are going to Vauxhall Park in the evening for a fireworks display Sir Percy has paid for, and proper food, not the rather unacceptable viands you can usually buy there, so that as many of Jeanne's acting friends and as many émigrés as possible can celebrate. But it is a public venue; you should be able to snatch her there without any trouble."

Gyrth nodded.

"Excellent; in the dark, manhandling a girl into a carriage shouldn't pose any problems."

"You weren't thinking of manhandling her conscious were you?" said St Just.

"Why not?" said Gyrth "She's tiny; I don't see any problem."

"She's Froggie Holte's sister; and by all accounts a virago!" said St Just. "Besides, it's not like taking a willing girl like your last effort; she can scream if nothing else and Froggie will knock you down first and then take you by the scruff into Hyde Park so he can run you through. And my brother-in-law will back him; and remember Armand Chauvelin used to be a member of the Committee of Public Safety; he was born suspicious. It has to be done quickly and quietly. Slip a powder in her drink and catch her as she falls."

Gyrth shrugged.

"Seems an excess of precaution but perchance you are correct. I'll do it the way you suggest."

-/-

Peter bounced back to good health with the ease of a rudely healthy young creature; and insisted on being driven out to the old Frogham house to oversee her first orphans. George and Liza were lording it slightly over their previous fellows, George having taken on the duty of teaching them that there were such things as chamber pots and earth closets that were to be used for sanitary needs; not the floor. They had pointed and laughed at those who made a fuss about bathing and were actually, confided Mrs Hobbes, a very great help in persuading the orphans to comply with her house rules.

The little thieves were envious of the good luck George and Liza had; but not resentful. Good luck and bad luck struck randomly, and their former fellows were giving them advice to make more good luck for themselves. And their idol was Miss Peter, who had let Uncle Billie hurt her to make sure he was put where he could never hurt them again. By the time Peter came to visit it was finally starting to sink in that they were free and that they were going to be fed and clothed and warm without having to steal for it. Peter had suggested buying up broken down carriage horses just to provide the boys with horses to train them how to care for them; the girls might learn to sew, and Peter suggested gentle Rose Frontenac to teach embroidery, where as a teacher she would not need to be able to walk as the girls could bring their work to her. Estelle had already arrived from Frogham Hall and was able to talk to those girls who had been forced into prostitution and be an elder sister to them as well as teaching basic literacy to all the orphans. Estelle had not expected to be needed so soon; and embraced Peter.

"I won't let you down" she said.

"I know you won't" said Peter. "The children need someone who understands; with the best will in the world, those of us who have never suffered privation and degradation cannot know enough to truly give them as much compassion as they need."

"But Miss Peter, you have at least seen it; which is more than most philanthropists I think" said Estelle. "Will you have me teach them French also?"

"Those who show aptitude and interest, yes" said Peter "It's another skill; and for the boys, the chance to do well in the army or navy in the war against France if they can interrogate prisoners or translate documents. And for the girls the chance to work with French modistes!"

"I will of course avoid teaching them curse words" said Estelle.

"Oh use it for the boys to keep their interest if need be" said Peter "If they DO become soldiers, the ability to give a quick burst of Parisian street language might make the difference between persuading a group of French to surrender or fighting to the death, saving lives on both sides. You are clever enough, Estelle; do as you see fit."

Peter passed amongst the orphans too, distributing cuddles, a revelation to the affection-starved, neglected mites; and she was their heroine from then onward.


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49 St Just's Wedding**

The wedding was to be launched from Sir Percy's house in Richmond; and was a relatively private affair. All the members of the league were there of course, and such actresses who had also escaped the terror who knew Jeanne, and her new friends amongst the actresses in England; the most distinguished guests being Mrs Jordan and Prince William.

Having seen the Prince of Wales at Almack's, where she had been introduced briefly to him by Sir Percy, Peter decided she preferred his younger brother. Both were inclined to embonpoint; but where the Prince of Wales was distinctly coarse looking by now, Prince William might be taken for a country squire, with a bluff straightforward manner and a good sprinkling of naval vernacular in his speech.

"Well little lady, you are the one who was hurt by that wicked villain are you?" he said.

"Probably because I spat in his face" said Peter candidly "I have to say I know it is not very ladylike, but being tied up I could not reach to kick him where it would do most good."

"Hah! Hah!" laughed the Prince "You're no mealy mouthed miss; demme good show, you know the ropes!" he said. "Have you met Mrs Jordan?"

"No sir; but I've seen her act in 'School for Scandal" said Peter, smiling at the royal mistress "I don't think I've ever seen a finer actress; I hope to see you in Twelfth Night which I am told you make your own with the breeches role."

"It is a good part" said Dorothy Jordan "I think it's one of Shakespeare's better crafted comedies."

"In that it has a plot you mean" said Peter "Some of them do seem a little contrived. Though even so one can see that he has very little good opinion of women to make both Viola and especially Olivia act like very peagooses. I always itch to slap Olivia and tell her to pull herself together; and what Viola sees in that man-milliner Orsini I do not know! 'that phrase again! It has a dying fall' – the most languid of dandies in this age would be ashamed surely of sounding so goosish!"

Mrs Jordan laughed.

"Of course, all the characters are stylised and exaggerated in Shakespeare; even in the tragedies and histories. But I am suited best to comedy."

"And I think you will be remembered forever for your wonderful skill" said Peter sincerely.

"Why, I do believe you are more excited at meeting the incomparable Dorothy than at meeting a Prince" joked Prince William.

"Sir, I have always been taught that a girl should be wary of a sailor" Peter teased back. The Prince roared with laughter.

"You are a wit indeed, Miss Holte; I hope to see you again some day!" he said as he moved off to circulate.

-/-

The bride was radiant; the groom nervous. This was not unusual at any wedding; and if Armand St Just was nervous of anything but embarking on married life nobody might know it.

The whole went off adequately; and if Chauvelin sneered slightly that they had chosen a priest of the church of Rome he did his best to conceal his disapprobation. It was not, after all any of his business if they chose the asylum of England and yet clung to their old superstitious religion. For his own part he considered it improper in an exile not to take on the customs of the country that gave you shelter; he did not like to associate with other émigrés for the reason that it encouraged a foolish hankering after what could not be as much as because he despised so many of them as scions of the aristocrats he largely despised. One thing he did hope devoutly was that married life would keep Armand St Just sufficiently occupied not to press his enmity; he despised St Just, and despised him the more in comparison to the man's sister, and Sir Percy. With Marguerite held hostage, Sir Percy had always found a way out without compromising his honour; and even in Boulogne when he had seemed to be prepared to do so, for the sake of the people of Boulogne more, Chauvelin suspected, than for Marguerite's life, then he, Chauvelin, had little doubt that the Englishman would have taken his own life to avoid living with the shame of the lie that was the best way Chauvelin had thought of to reduce the mythos of the Scarlet Pimpernel. And never had Marguerite nor Percy ever shown anything but pride and scorn towards their captors save when dissembling. He knew that if Peter was in danger, she would despise him for compromising his honour for her safety; and that if he did so he would lose that love he valued so much. Personally he thought that Jeanne Lange would feel the same way, from what he knew of her, as Peter and Marguerite; but St Just was such a supreme egotist he must needs be the one to be her hero. Chauvelin decided that, even had he not given his word to Sir Percy, he was not such a small person as to serve St Just as he deserved by telling his new bride what he had done, let alone Marguerite Blakeney. He had not the slightest hesitation in believing that St Just would never tell the truth to his Jeanne.

Whereas Peter knew all his most shameful secrets, all the things he had done to scramble back and claw onto position for his life – and through that Fleurette's life – after his defeats at the hands of the Scarlet Pimpernel; how he had fallen into the depths of hatred and let the malevolence prevalent in the whole of the republic fuel his own desires for revenge – revenge for something, not necessarily specified – and drowned willingly in the sea and morass of loathing. She knew that, his beloved, and still she loved him! It was a love that could only be killed by lies or deceit; and suddenly he felt sorry for St Just, who would never, could never have the moral courage to confess to his Jeanne his own darkest hours. His thoughts must have been reflected on his face as the groom's eyes ran around the guests and lighted on Chauvelin's face; because he pushed his way through the crowd and lowered over Chauvelin.

"Why do you look at me like that? Anyone would think it was a pitying light in your eye! what is there to pity me for when I am marrying the best, the truest, the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"If you really want the truth – which I doubt you will welcome" said Chauvelin evenly, unintimidated by St Just's greater bulk "It is that you will never taste true happiness without total honesty because you fear. You do not trust and love her enough to dare to speak of your worst moments. And so I pity you; because a part of you must always deceive her and feel the anguish of knowing that you do so."

"Hah! If you have told Miss Holte your worst moments – which I doubt – it was only in an attempt to cow her by the glorification of your sins!" said St Just.

"_Sacre tonnere_! At last I understand Sir Percy, and how he ever remains so debonair" said Chauvelin "It is when the opinion of another is irrelevant to the point of being risible; and when one feels nothing of hatred but only of mild contemptuous pity. You should snarl now and then I laugh merrily and make a joke" he added.

St Just did snarl; but hurled away as Sir Percy himself and other members of the league started moving in.

"One does pity him; but he is also my brother-in-law" said Percy softly.

"And you are in a deucedly uncomfortable position; the words with him were not of my seeking; merely that he looked at me at the moment the revelation of my pity for him reached my consciousness" said Chauvelin. "An unfortunate incident. If the poor fool would but make a clean breast of it to his bride he might keep it from his sister. Though I should have thought myself that honesty and contrition were yet still a better course; for Lady Blakeney is a strong woman and big enough to forgive."

"As I forgave" said Percy "He is a weak character I fear; and the whole was my fault in permitting him to come to France and placing him in temptation's way on a mission for which he had not the strength of character to succeed. But I did not like to belittle him by passing him over either."

"If he had obeyed he had not been in such straits" said Chauvelin. "I do not see that you can blame yourself."

"He resents your pity; as you resented mine" said Percy "I fear it will not make him love you any better."

Chauvelin shrugged.

"Perchance the love of a good woman will give him the self respect he needs to get over his childishness. I swear I have never known what contentment was before I knew Peter; my love for Fleur, true though it was, was a boy's love, deepened by adversity. When he is contented he may forget resentment."

"And have you forgotten resentment towards me, and a need to be even?"

"We are even, Percy. You took everything from me; and then you gave everything back; and more. Not just my life, which I should have given for France willingly; but my daughter, the chance to redeem my honour without compromising my beliefs, and your blessing on my love for Pierrette. I can fight for equality in a different way here; England is not France. How easy it would be to foment revolution in the Rookeries, in the mill towns where the exploited masses work for a pittance! But England is NOT France; here it is possible to effect change by philanthropy and by petitioning parliament. I can work WITH those forward-looking and fair employers like Cole; help Peter with her blasted orphans; and make the English public willing to help me by rescuing dogs and horses for the little demons to care for. There is work to do here as well as in France when you have need of me. We are even; I am your man; and I can afford to pity St Just."

Percy clapped him on the shoulder; and reflected wryly that love and hatred are closer than most men think; love turns oft times to hatred, but there was a real chance that, in the words Chauvelin had been wont to mutter 'á nos deux' the same love might grow that lay between Percy and all his intimates; a love unspoken of for the Englishman hates to admit to love, especially in the context of the love of a man for a male friend. And he also reflected that it was what made it so hard to feel any closeness for his brother-in-law. It was not love and hatred that were opposites; but either love and indifference; or love and contempt. And it was hard not to feel faintly contemptuous of St Just whilst pitying him; but if Chauvelin at least could also pity him, then hopefully there would be no incidents between them that their erstwhile enemy was willing to stir.

-/-

It may be said that if anything was needed to fuel St Just's hatred of Chauvelin it was to know that the man pitied him; the ultimate insult! Silently he wished Gyrth every luck; and gave not one thought to the concept of causing terror and outrage to the young sister of one of his supposed friends!


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50 Peter – Kidnapped!**

The fireworks were spectacular!

The newlyweds did not of course attend; they might be supposed to have more pressing business to which to give their thoughts. This was a celebration of their nuptials that their friends might shower their marriage bed with blessings as the fireworks showered the night with stars. Peter certainly wished them well – Jeanne was a lovely girl – and hoped that the bride would not be too disappointed in her rather inadequate groom. She appreciated St Just's dislike for HER Armand; but being as shrewd as she was honest, recognised that he was laying his own failings on Chauvelin's door as well. Her passing thought was that he would have got on well with the overly dramatic and self-absorbed Count Orsini in Twelfth Night because they could have admired themselves and wallowed in their own wrongs at each other.

Peter was determined just to enjoy the evening and watch the fireworks with her friends; and she was not expecting any trouble with so large a party there.

Thus, when she drained a glass and swore because it was bitter it was a shock to find heaviness and sleepiness overcoming her as she fell; and her last thought was that someone was catching her on her way into a deep black well.

-/-

George and Liza were enjoying the fireworks too; it was a spectacle neither of them had ever seen. Miss Peter was a right one to bring them! Thought George, appreciatively. He was gasping at a particularly fine rocket with green and red stars when Liza pinched his arm.

"Lawks, Smuts, ain't that Miss Peter that feller is carryin'?" she hissed.

George turned; and swore.

"Go and get Mr Armand!" he said "Or Mr Jimmy!"

"What are you going to do?" demanded Liza.

"Foller un o' course!" said George.

"He'll have a coach!" said Liza.

"Then I'll ride on the f – er the demmed back" said George "RUN you daft 'a'porth!"

-/-

Liza ran tearfully smack into Chauvelin.

"What is it?" he asked, his pale eyes all questions.

"Oh Mr Armand, there's a feller carryin' Miss Peter away!" cried Liza.

"Sacre Tonnere!" swore Chauvelin "We need Froggie and his coach; and to tell Sir Percy. He always contrives; you can tell he is related to the Tremaines. Find Frogham, child; I'll find Sir Percy."

Liza ran off and Chauvelin strode purposefully to where Percy was drinking and laughing with friends.

"Percy, a word with your floral side" he said in French.

Percy gave him a glance and excused himself and withdrew; as Liza dragged both Cecily and Froggie by the hand.

"Tell them all, Liza" said Chauvelin.

"Smuts and me we saw a man carry off Miss Peter; she were dead or asleep" said Liza. "Smuts 'e said 'e'd foller un; reckoned 'e'd cling on back of coach if 'e took 'er up in one. 'e say to get Mr Armand and Mr Jimmy."

"Egad we must be after them at once!" cried Froggie.

"It would help if we knew more about who has her; and why" said Percy "Liza, can you describe the man?"

Liza spat.

"'E were a swell cove, a dandy" she said "Norra bene swell cove like you, mister, but a real Bartholomew Baby, cotton-dressed as silk. 'e's one 'oo when yer prig his dibs have a snuff box made o' pewter."

"Age? Could you tell?" asked Percy unabashed by the cant. She frowned.

"Quite old I fink" she said "Lots older'n any o' you gents. 'E wears a quizzin' glass wiv a swan on it" she added.

"Invaluable child" said Armand "That as I suspected is Gyrth; the wretch has found a way around her not wanting to elope with him! Liza, my dear, did Miss Peter have her reticule with her?"

Liza thought.

"Yerse; ut were hangin' on her arm" she said.

Chauvelin sighed with satisfaction.

"We have a little less to be concerned about" he said.

"We do?" said Froggie.

"We do. She has her pistol with her" said Chauvelin "And for all that I should like to get onto the Great North Road in hot pursuit as soon as possible."

"I'm coming" said Cecily "If we don't catch them and get back by dawn she should have a lady companion."

"I'm comin' too" said Liza.

"Froggie, take Peter's four seat Phaeton; take the time to harness your short-steppers to it. Four will go faster than two in any case" said Sir Percy "I'll be following. And I shall also be informing Mr Cole that his daughter is on an errand of mercy and not eloping with you, Froggie."

"Lud, that would be a hoot if he thought we were" said Froggie. "Can't think of anyone I'd rather elope with mind, but the whole business of eloping is deucedly uncivilised."

"If you plan to make that a back-handed proposal to the girl I think she'd probably rather you did it in a more formal way when there's time for it" said Chauvelin.

"Eh? Oh right; I'll propose later then Cecily; is that all right?"

"Oh YES Froggie" sighed Cecily, giddy with joy in between being terrified for her friend!

-/-

Peter awoke feeling nauseous; the rocking of a coach at a dangerously fast speed did not help her feeling of wellbeing. She kept her eyes shut as she reviewed what had happened.

She had drunk her drink; it had been drugged. Did someone have a grudge against the League? She carefully peeped through her lashes to see who else might be there.

It was Gyrth.

GYRTH? What grudge might he have against the league? She moaned and half sat up; her head swam and she felt very sick.

"Awake are you?" he said.

"What on earth is going on? Why did you drug me?" demanded Peter.

"So you wouldn't make a fuss of course" said Gyrth. "I need your inheritance; I'm cleaned out. And after you've spent the night with me, your reputation will be gone and you'll have to marry me. I shan't make a fuss if you want to take lovers; though I want my turn with you first; you're a diamond of the first water."

"Excuse me" said Peter, rather tartly "But would I not only lose my reputation if I spent the night with a man?"

It took a moment for the insult to sink in; then he leaned forward and slapped her.

Peter decided to give up the unequal struggle with her stomach and retaliated; and Gyrth cried out in disgust as he was covered with vomit.

"Well what do you expect if you will give someone unnatural things in their drink then assault them?" said Peter, who had discovered she still had her reticule.

"You'll pay for that" said Gyrth ineffectually wiping at his vomit-covered lap and chest with a kerchief "When I have everything tied up right-and-tight I'll give you such a beating as you won't forget in a hurry! What are you doing with that reticule?"

"Looking for my kerchief to wipe my mouth" said Peter, finding the butt of her pistol. She let the little butt slide into her hand, closed her finger on the trigger and shot him through the reticule. The noise was surprisingly little; the gun was small with a limited charge; and the silk of her reticule too muffled it.

He gasped once; and fell back, a dark blossoming stain of blood running down his cravat from his throat vying with the yellowish vomit on his waistcoat; and slid lifeless on the floor.

Peter relaxed. It was rather unpleasant but there was no point having a fit of the vapours over killing someone who was much better dead than alive. She had a more pressing need in any case. His beaver would have to do; and Froggie would not castigate her for spoiling a good beaver because she had seen Gyrth's hat wilt in the damp and so it must be mixed with rabbit fur and not be pure beaver. She upturned it and relieved her bladder.

Things now were looking much better. She cleaned out and reloaded her pistol; foolish to not take the time to do something that might save her life. She reached in the coach's pockets and found another, full sized pistol; useful. She also found a flask of brandy; of which she took a mouthful to rinse away the taste of being sick; and spat into the useful beaver.

Presumably Gyrth had a coachman. Possibly he also had a postillion; the speed they were going meant it likely that there were six horses. Not to be wondered at; if she was fleeing from Froggie, she would want six horses; because he was likely to take a dim view of having his sister abducted. Armand would be furious also but somehow she suspected that Gyrth would have counted so quiet a man as naught; and feared Froggie more. Stopping the coach to make sure her menfolk caught up with her was probably a good idea; or she might take one of the horses and ride back to town.

That thought made her feel sick again. The motion of the coach was not good either. She took Gyrth's cane and rapped sharply on the front of the coach; the driver should hear that and with luck would pull over. Indeed the speed was abated almost immediately. The coach came to a shuddering stop. Definitely six horses the time it took. Peter took up the cane again; and as the door opened, brought it down hard on the head of the coachman. Almost simultaneously a small fist bearing a stone came down on the back of the man's neck; and Peter looked into the eyes of George.

"Lud!" she said "How came you to be here?"

"Clung on the back, di'n't I?" said George. "Where's the old cove what grabbed yer?"

"Quite dead; I shot him" said Peter.

"Cuh! I fort I heard somefing like a bang from inside; wondered if 'e'd 'it yer so 'ard I c'd 'ear it" said George. "Ain't you the peeviest mort I ever met!" he lapsed back into broad cant from an excess of emotion.

"Well if that was a compliment I thank you for it" said Peter, heaving the coachman into the coach and binding him efficiently with his muffler and Gyrth's bloody cravat. "Was there a postillion did you notice?"

"Yes; he's still sat there" said George

"Well you stay here; get your poor hands warm" said Peter. "You must be frozen hanging on the back!"

"Well, I'm used ter bein' cold" said George, self deprecatingly. It was nice that she had noticed; most swell morts wouldn't, no sir!

Peter strolled up to the lead pair where the postillion held the restive horses.

"Are you by any chance hired with the chaise?" she asked.

"Miss?" said the postillion "I come with the horses; chaise belong to Mr Gyrth."

"Ah" said Peter "I rather fancied he'd not have a matched set of six; fine cattle too. The coachman is his man?"

The postillion nodded.

"Why miss?" he asked.

"Because I have no doubt that facing the front as you do, you have very little idea that you could be charged with aiding and abetting in the abduction of a minor" said Peter "That's me. If I were you, I'd have those horses out of the traces as fast as you can and be back to London with them; I'll swear an affidavit that you knew nothing. I'm expecting my brother and betrothed to catch up with me and take me home so not to worry about me; only if those horses stand they'll take a chill. If you meet my brother tell him I sent you back; he'll approve."

"Yes miss" said the postillion, grateful for the concern for the horses "What about Mr Gyrth, miss?"

"He's now facing the highest of judges for his actions" said Peter with black humour.

_Another Heyer reference/tribute from 'The Masqueraders'; the motto of the Tremaine family according to this is 'I contrive'. It rather suits Percy._


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51 Reinforcements Arrive**

When Armand Chauvelin on one side and Froggie on the other wrenched open the carriage doors they found a bound and furious coachman, a dead body, and Peter teaching George how to play loo, having found a pack of cards in the coach door pocket too.

"Zounds!" said Froggie with feeling.

Peter jumped up, scattering cards every which way, and threw herself into Armand's arms.

"Ma mie, ma mie!" he murmured "You are safe! I thought as Liza recalled that you had your reticule you would manage to kill the brute; ma pauvre petite!"

She clung to him.

"F-foolish of me" she said, her teeth chattering "But I have the shivers; now I know you are here, I can stop having to be brave."

"Indeed, ma mie; we are here to care for you; and Liza too, and Miss Cole who has come in case we need to stay overnight" he told her.

"Cecily? Her mama permitted it? Lud, I hope they don't think she's eloped" said Peter.

"Sir Percy is seeing to it that they do not" said Armand.

"And hopefully to some conveyance to take you home" said Froggie "Because we didn't think any further than catching up with you, I have to say; ah, George, you are definitely ready to be a tiger if you can hang on to the back of that rickety old thing; we'll get you a new waistcoat in the morning… well whenever we get back to town."

"Take Peter and Miss Cole and Liza" said Armand "George shall bear me company and await the resources of Sir Percy."

"Better not" said Peter "If any busybody happens on you, a dead body and a coach they might assume you to be a highwayman. Runners aren't renowned for their intellect you know. What did Sir Percy say?"

"He told us to go on ahead and that he would catch up" said Armand.

"Then we wait for him to catch up" said Peter "And can you men please lift out that….. Gyrth…out? It's perishing cold out here but I'd rather not share the coach with the fellow. I emptied out his hat; I couldn't find a chamber pot."

"Singularly ill equipped carriage wot" said Froggie. "It's a ghastly hat anyway; not quite the thing at all. Much like the rest of his clothes before you variously stained them" he viewed the body through his quizzing glass. "Nice shooting; from the lap I presume, no sighting; skill or luck, m'dear?"

"Half and half" said Peter "I thought if I pointed it towards his heart it should hit something vital on the body line; it was pointing more up than I had realised but with so small a ball I should think that hitting the throat was rather lucky because a rib might have deflected it."

"Rather" said Froggie "What would you have done if he had refused to die and came for you?"

"Stuck my fingers in the wound and pulled until pain made him pass out" said Peter "It wouldn't be a time to get squeamish. Good job he didn't manage a waterfall; ball might have caught in the folds even at such close quarters."

-/-

Cecily brought a rug from the phaeton to wrap Peter; and Froggie went to walk his horses with George's enthusiastic aid. Peter leaned on her Armand, and Liza took her hand in her little paw and patted it.

"'E ain't done nuffink to yer, miss" said Liza "And that's good, ain't it? 'course it's worst the first time when yer don't know what ter expec' and yer bleeds a lot. But they doesn't warn swell morts, does they, or you wouldn't want ter get shackled."

"What you have had done to you and what a female married to a man who loves her may expect are very different" said Peter "And I fully anticipate the event will be enjoyable for both if both are wanting it. Come now! A pony, beaten, half starved, and driven by a coster who cares little how much he hurts his beast is a far cry from the fine horses Froggie and I drive which enjoy showing off when we ride behind them. Such things are in the intent. All that is hurt will heal and one day perhaps, when you are properly grown up, you will find a man who you will love and who loves you; and then you will want to be with each other in the deepest intimacy. He has reminded you, has he not, of all the men who have hurt you?"

Liza nodded; and Peter put her arm around the child and drew her close.

"It's all right to cry you know" she said gently.

And Liza buried her head against her wonderful Miss Peter and burst into tears.

-/-

From outside there was the sound of Sir Percy's merry laugh and the jingle of more harness; and his face appeared at the window of the coach.

"Transport for ladies at your command" he said cheerfully "Will you take the children too? Armand, are you going to bear Froggie company?"

"It would be civil; will you permit, ma mie?" Armand asked Peter.

She kissed his cheek.

"It would be civil" she said. "And then Cecily and I can have a frank talk about all the questions she's longing to ask; take George with you too. He'll like bowling along fast in a phaeton better than riding inside a closed coach in any case."

Cecily blushed!

-/-

Inside the coach and returning to London at a less uncomfortable rate, Peter explained a few facts of life to the blushing Cecily. Froggie was too inarticulate to manage any explanations himself and somehow Peter doubted that Mrs Cole would get around to doing more than hinting; it was tiresome that the vulgar seemed to equate innocence and ignorance. Liza put in the odd comment; and explained, rather more graphically than either young woman might have liked, how much worse it would be to be a boy harlot; and Peter shot Cecily a rueful look, both of them burning.

"I think we both learned something we might have preferred not to know" said Peter to Cecily "But now we do know, any orphans we should come across who have been thus hurt will not shock or surprise us so much."

"I am enough shocked that any man should – should be intimate with so young a child as Liza!" said Cecily. "There are wicked people out there; and I will do all I can to help you rescue those who need it, Peter; and I love Froggie and I trust him with all my heart not to hurt me."

"As I love and trust Armand" said Peter. "HEY!" she shouted in sudden revelation.

"What?" Cecily was concerned; Liza clung to Peter.

"He was prepared. Gyrth I mean. He had the six horses hired. He had the sleeping draught ready. It was planned well in advance. How did he know I would be at Vauxhall?" said Peter.

"I expect the men will have already thought of that" said Cecily fatuously.

Peter did not say that if a stray idea so profound ever passed through Froggie's mind it would be because the poor thing was lost; but it had probably not escaped either Armand nor Sir Percy.

-/-

It had not.

Cecily was restored to the bosom of her family with deep thanks for her loan of virtue to the person of Miss Holte and apologies for so precipitate a flight with her; and Sir Percy joined them in the Bloomsbury house.

"You had noticed he was all prepared?" said Peter.

"It had not escaped my notice, ma mie" said Armand.

"Not mine" said Sir Percy.

"I say!" said Froggie.

"Which means I suppose that he has suborned one of our household" said Peter, grimly "That one we have trusted will give information for money to any, means we have a risk over any League work we do."

"There is another possible explanation" said Sir Percy "That Armand St Just inadvertently gave him the idea of where you might be, if he spoke without consideration of the celebration fireworks."

"Inadvertently?" said Armand.

"Let us be charitable for now and say, inadvertently" said Sir Percy. "I shall speak to Armand when his wife has less claim on his time. You will do NOTHING."

"Sir Percy, I know I don't much like St Just, but why does he hate me so much?" asked Peter, puzzled.

"Oh I am certain Armand St Just does not hate you at all, Peter" said Sir Percy "Indeed I doubt he even thinks about you."

"I see" said Armand. "She is but a tool for his vengeance on me."

"None of us can know that" said Sir Percy "La! Such is too melodramatic even for a Frenchman, surely? I will see him and ask if he has spoken in so foolish a way as to put ideas into his late friend's head."

"Speaking of his late friend, will I be had up before a magistrate?" asked Peter.

"Egad, no my dear! You did not notice but I had brought Tony along; sound fellow Tony. He dragged the coachman off to give his affidavit to a magistrate; promised to see he walked free of a conspiracy charge if he spoke up nice and explained how he was scared to disobey. Nobody's going to enact a Cheltenham tragedy over a young girl defending her virtue, wot! Time to leave you people in peace; 'Servant, Peter; talk to you all in a few days."


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52 Sir Percy Takes a Hand**

Peter drove round to see Cecily the following afternoon and embraced her formidable mama thanking her effusively for the loan of Cecily as a tower of strength in a difficult trouble.

"Well, I'm glad she was able to bear you company Miss Holte; though tower of strength is not the way I should have described Cecily no-wise, think on" said Mrs Cole.

"She was there to hug me and love me and be all a sister should" said Peter "Yes I know I am premature; but my brother greatly desires to call on you formally. He is much impressed by Cecily's fortitude in insisting on coming to be with me; as well as finding her quite the sweetest girl in the world! You will not call me an old tabby for promoting the match?"

"There now! Viscount Frogham is a most delightful gentleman!" said Mrs Cole. "And I never thought my Cecily would make so brilliant a match; I hoped she might find someone to make her happy…. Oh how my sister Eliza will spit!" she added happily.

"I need not say that Froggie prefers that this painful interlude should not be referred to?" said Peter "Though nothing untoward happened he has granted permission for me to reduce the time of my betrothal; and we shall marry next month. I hope Cecily and Penelope will be my bridesmaids? I should like that of all things! But I do not want anyone to say hurtful things that my husband-to-be is prepared to put up with my honour being compromised; which it was not, as Cecily will have told you, but you know how tongues wag."

"Oh indeed!" said Mrs Cole. "We shall be entirely silent on the whole business of course, Miss Holte! But how dreadful for you to be abducted not once but twice!"

"It is likely the same man who, having failed the first time by the use of a tool to effect my abduction, decided to do it for himself this time" said Peter mendaciously "He has tried to elope with an heiress before, you know; and my brother tells me that he was virtually in the debtor's gaol for his profligacy. Had not my fortune been greater than Cecily's it might have been my poor sweet friend he fixed on for his dubious gallantry."

Mrs Cole gave a little shriek of horror; she had no illusions about her daughter's ability to cope with such; and to do the good woman credit she tried not to be glad that it had been Miss Holte that the villain had laid his plans about! Somehow she could never see Cecily coolly shooting a rake; though Mrs Cole prided herself on the fortitude that might have managed such herself had she possessed a pistol and had been in a like situation. Miss Holte was no languid ninny of a widgeon as so many fashionable ladies seemed to be!

-/-

"I think, Armand" said Sir Percy to St Just "You and your wife will find the climate of either Canada or Louisiana more healthy for you; and the best possible choices for having the advantage of French being spoken in both."

"Why would we want to leave England, Percy?" said St Just.

"Because I should find it embarrassing to have my brother-in-law on conspiracy to abduction charges" said Sir Percy. "You really should NOT make suggestions about drugging girls in front of servants if you do not want people to find out; though I had guessed before I went seeking answers. And believe me, Froggie will press charges if I let him know, even though Armand Chauvelin holds you too little to bother about. He, you see, put his trust in me to see his betrothed safe. I shall make you an allowance; but I want you out of the country inside the month. And it would be healthier for you; after all, Peter is a woman, and they have rather erratic emotions. I can't swear she won't put a ball in you as she did to Gyrth. Ah, a shock to you? Yes, she woke up, cast up her accounts in his lap and shot him. I don't know quite what shocked him most; and as he's dead I never shall. Rather a good shot, Peter. Like Froggie."

"Have – have you told her you suspect…"

"Lud, she and Chauvelin worked it out between them" said Percy. "You're a trifle transparent, Armand; and I will not cover for your erratic humours any longer. To protect the name of my wife and her feelings you may take yourself abroad. I shall arrange everything. Canada; or Louisiana?"

"Louisiana" said St Just sulkily "Canada is said to be even colder than England!"

"Louisiana it is then" said Sir Percy pleasantly. "My regards to your wife."

Armand St Just was raging; but there was little he could do. And it was finally beginning to dawn on him that he had offended against a fellow league member in Froggie as well as against Chauvelin; and St Just feared the biting anger of the English sportsmen who made up the league. And that Miss Holte too might take a revenge…. Well women might; did not Charlotte Corday stab Marat? He was frightened as well as angry; and suddenly Louisiana seemed a very good idea.

-/-

Marguerite would be tearful that her brother had decided to leave the country; the story he was to tell was that there were more opportunities in the New World that he felt he should take now he had the responsibility of a wife. It would make Marguerite feel that her brother was taking responsibility at last; Percy somehow doubted that it would have actually occurred to Armand to find work to support a wife but would happily continue to live on her earnings as an actress and the allowance Percy made him. As he would doubtless do in Louisiana. A disappointing type, Armand; Percy would do anything for him for Marguerite's sake; but this was a betrayal of another member – several members – of the League, not merely of himself. For himself he could forgive. Betrayal of others could not be anything but unforgivable. Somehow Percy doubted that Armand St Just would die full of years in his own bed; a man of such intemperate passions would either come to grief in some quarrel or drink himself to death for want of something to occupy his passions. And the saddest thing was that when news of such came, it would be a relief.

-/-

Froggie, Peter and Armand Chauvelin heard the news that St Just was to leave England for the greater opportunities in the New World with studiously expressionless faces.

Peter managed to murmur to St Just,

"I believe they still have duelling in Louisiana; try not to have any virgins there deflowered by force."

It was at that point that the enormity of what he had done burst upon Armand St Just; and he went white. Peter did not bother to say any more. St Just knew that there had never been the threat of rape to his Jeanne; that he had taken his revenge beyond the offence he sought vengeance for, and that he had fallen to the level of the most bestial of those who revelled in the Terror.


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53 A Happy Ending**

The betrothal between Chauvelin and Peter was now official; Peter had confronted Sir Percy and demanded the protection of her lover's ring upon her finger. The announcement was made alongside the announcement of the betrothal of James Holte,Viscount Frogham to Miss Cecily Cole.

That both Holtes were marrying, as some saw it, significantly beneath themselves caused quite a stir.

Lady Sefton spoke to Peter at Almack's.

"We the patronesses are concerned that you have chosen a rather insignificant émigré who was once diplomat to the revolutionary council and was expelled as an undesirable alien; why he was granted the right to return I do not quite know."

"Perhaps, Lady Sefton, because he enjoys the patronage of a more important body than the patronesses of Almack's" said Peter coldly.

"Oh? And who might that be?" Lady Sefton looked scornful.

"The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel" said Peter. "Vicomte de Chauvelin is a brave man; and if you do not wish to have me at your little club for my love for him, then I would not wish to belong to it. I pray you, speak no more on the matter to me; and if you wish to give me my conge, let me know in writing."

Lady Sefton flushed.

"I – why I had no idea!" she said "He is not – we all revere that hero and his band of course – surely he is not the leader? I think we all picture a taller man…."

"Oh! No" said Peter "he is but one who reveres the chief; of course anyone who is anyone knows who the chief is, but discretion forbids discussion of that. And indeed I have been indiscreet letting my irritation of your disparagement of my betrothed even mention the matter; still a lady of your standing will surely be of the utmost discretion."

"Oh yes, quite so!" said Lady Sefton "And naturally I shall issue a voucher to M. Le Vicomte."

"He stopped using the title of course" said Peter. "It was inexpedient."

"Has he then…. I mean, all during his supposed support of the revolution?"

"Oh Armand Chauvelin believes in a republic" said Peter "But not in the mismanagement that is the Republique Francais. As to anything else I will not speak."

If the pea-witted socialite chose to believe that Armand had been working for the League all these years, let her. She would not understand his pursuit of an ideal turned sour. Those that mattered DID understand.

-/-

Naturally there were visits from mantua-makers for Peter's trousseau; which she endured stoically. Invitations to the wedding breakfast were sent out, and flowers ordered. Peter did most of the organising herself; that way it was likely to be done properly.

Marguerite visited her.

"Are you certain, petite, that he is the right one? That it was not the romance of your first meeting and a bout of Holte stubbornness?" she asked.

"His look across a room turns my legs to water and my belly to fire" said Peter "And there is nobody I like better to spend time with, whether that is in his arms, reading together, playing silly parlour games to amuse the youngsters or exchanging rabidly biting views on members of society. He is Armand; my other half."

"Then I am glad for you, my dear; and too for him that he has found at last a match who is enough to give him contentment and peace" said Marguerite.

-/-

The day dawned; and Peter found herself wafted through it as in a kind of a dream. The wedding was by special licence since neither were getting married in their own parish and Froggie had engaged the services of the poorest and most virtuous parson he could find in Town and arranged a second wedding breakfast for his parishioners. The little parson in threadbare black that was turning green with age was a little overawed by the grandeur of his surroundings and of the guests; which was perhaps not helped by the bride tutting over his coat and demanding it to darn before the wedding took place when he came to discuss with her that she understood the wedding vows. He meekly handed over his coat and Peter patched and darned it while patiently answering his questions. He came to the question he always dreaded about checking that the bride understood that there were physical aspects to a marriage; and was relieved that this bride laughed and said that as she had horses she would be a widgeon indeed not to realise some of the realities of life. His coat was in much finer fettle and the only thing left to unsettle him was that the bride absently answered him in French whilst gazing dreamily into the eyes of the groom; and had to be poked by her brother and told to 'speak a Christian language do, brat'.

The bride said,

"Tais-toi, imbécile! I do."

"Don't call your brother an imbecile ma mie" said the groom "He means well."

The little parson had rarely seen a couple so plainly in love; with such pleasant relations, none of whom squabbled. He was a very happy man.

Especially with his fee which was far more than he expected; and would tide several poor families over the next winter.

-/-/-/-

Much later, long after dark, Armand Chauvelin asked his wife,

"Are you satisfied with your bargain, ma mie?"

"Oh very" said Peter. "And humans have a very great deal more fun than horses seem to."

He chuckled throatily.

"Should we test that out again. Pierrette?"

"Oh I think in this age of scientific enquiry it is always right to run many tests to make sure that the result is as one might expect" said Peter, gravely; though she ended on a giggle.

M. and Mme Chauvelin spent the night in the spirit of scientific enquiry taking liberties with an egality and fraternity that would please the heart of the most committed republican.


End file.
